


Petals for Armor

by stxrmborn



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, District 7, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Finnick Odair Lives, Hunger Games, Pre-Catching Fire, Quarter Quell, Slow Burn, star-crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 53
Words: 155,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23859775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stxrmborn/pseuds/stxrmborn
Summary: Bex Nassar learned far too late in life that peace was never a virtue. Being crowned Victor didn't change anything. The world didn't stop spinning and she had to play the Games forever. Except now, Bex was a bitter and pessimistic wilted woman with blood still stuck to her thorns.She was tired of being one of Snow's toys. They all were. But fire was catching, and Bex was going to wrap herself in petals for armor. President Snow wasn't ready for her wrath. None of them were.Especially, not Finnick Odair.
Relationships: Annie Cresta/Original Character(s), Annie Cresta/Original Male Character(s), Finnick Odair & Original Character(s), Finnick Odair/Original Character(s), Finnick Odair/Original Female Character(s), Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 65
Kudos: 191





	1. A GREAT KINDNESS

#####  _Do you feel held by him?_

#####  _Does he feel like home to you?_

##### MIDSOMMAR

#### PROLOGUE

#####  **__________________________**

**_  
8 YEARS EARLIER_ **   
  


**WHEN** Bex Nassar closed her eyes, she could see the end all over again.

The sun was so hot that it was piercing her eyelids every time she blinked. Her right leg was weak, suffering the more she walked on it, due to the stab wound that District Four boy gave right before she plunged her axe right into his chest. She hardly made any kills during the week she spent in this arena, deciding to hide in the coverage of the forest, not stepping near the Cornucopia surrounded by the multitude of boulders. Bex only emerged when she'd eaten the last of that deformed rabbit she caught on Day 3, and after counting the night before, she realized there were only three of them left.

At least seventeen tributes died in the bloodbath on the first day, including her District Seven male. That was a record in Hunger Games history. Now, there was only her, the District Four girl, and the District One boy.

She found the other girl by the small riverbank on the east side of the forest. Her was Derya, but Bex didn't know anything about her at the time. She didn't even know she was only fourteen, just a few years shy of her. Bex had to put all that information to the side while she was piercing her fingernails into the girl's eyes, blood seeping out like she was a waterfall. Derya was dead in minutes.

She met District One's Cavalier Career, Augustus Braun, at the Cornucopia, where he and the Career pack had been stationed since Day 1. His partners were all gone now, killed off by him – _their ring leader_. The boulders encircling the Cornucopia had been his advantage to see when other tributes were coming to attack, but the last thing he expected was a broken and beaten down District Seven girl at the top of the rock wall on the morning of Day 8.

Bex would always remember the smile Augustus gave her once he saw the blood dripping from her hands and the dried amount that still lingered on her axe. It was almost like he was _proud_. Proud to see the underdog outlast the Games; proud to be graced with the _unexpected_.

"It's just us now?" He asked, that charismatic grin still playing on his lips.

Bex didn't respond. Her voice was too hoarse and her throat hurt to speak. She simply nodded.

"Well," Augustus sighed, grabbing his sword, "I wish you good luck. May the odds be ever in _your_ favor."

He paused and held up his sword. Bex blinked. He was giving her a running start.

She didn't hesitate. Bex jumped off the top boulder and landed on her knees near the Cornucopia. She could feel her kneecaps breaking as they collided with the rough stone, but she stood up. She _needed_ to stand up. The sun was pulsating and making her dizzy. Bex almost believed she was seeing a white light, even before Augustus decapitated her with his sword. She didn't care how this ended, but she at least wanted to know that she made it, that the underdog could do something. She just wanted this to be over, whether that be in death or victory.

Augustus approached her slowly, calculating his every move, as Bex whimpered from the pain in her legs. He lifted her chin with the tip of his sword, and she met his piercing blue eyes with a glare. Augustus smirked, but that might've been his first mistake. Bex batted his sword away, allowing it to just barely skin her arm. She twirled the axe in her hand and swallowed hard, tasting saliva in the back of her throat. Augustus attacked with his sword, but her axe blocked it. He tried faking her out, kicking her knees out from under her, but she moved away before he could. His blood was pumping. Anger erupted in his chest.

" _What_ are you waiting for?!" He screamed, his sword ready to strike. "Stop dodging me!"

Bex tightened her grip on the weapon. "Fine," she croaked.

Before Augustus could move, Bex ran for him, closing her eyes as she swiped the axe. The weapon glided through the air. She almost thought it hadn't done anything by how smooth the axe cut, but when she opened her eyes, there it was: Augustus' head at her feet. His body was still standing for a solid ten seconds, spewing blood all over her face. When his body hit the ground, a cannon went off. The axe slipped out of Bex's hand.

" _Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winner of the 67th Annual Hunger Games._ "

Bex fell back, slumped against a rock, and breathed for the first time in what felt like a while. This was a dream. It had to be a dream.

The announcer cleared his throat: " _Bex Nassar. Congratulations._ "

To this day, as she sleeps in the comfort of her mansion in the Victors' Village, her brother staying just a floor under, Bex still wondered if it had been a dream after all.

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER ONE

#####  **__________________________**

**BEX** had never been able to shake off the Capitol for very long. The fake smiles, the flirtatious giggles – it all stayed with her, even when she was back in her own home. She was reminded of the Capitol everywhere she went: in her dreams, in her own reflection. Sometimes when she approached the mirror in her bedroom that she had since a baby, she didn't see what was really there. She saw Bex Nassar: the Capitol's Flower Girl with the perfect dark curls and white roses in her hair.

It felt like weeks, but it had been months since she returned from mentoring with Johanna for the 74th Hunger Games. Just a couple of days in that place could feel like a lifetime. The parties, the glitter, the food – it was enough to make both of them go insane, but this was their new normal, and Johanna still hadn't gotten used to it. Bex couldn't blame her. She had been the same way: completely unaccepting of her duties as a Victor. They were granted a life of peace after winning, but peace never came and the Games didn't end. Their lives were now owned by the public.

Bex tried not to think about that too much, especially when she was back home. District Seven had always been quiet, but something about the Victors' Village was even more peaceful. Sometimes the only sound that could be heard was the birds chirping outside. Bex usually found solace in chopping wood with her father's axe in the forest outside her home. These trees weren't exactly like the ones she grew up with – the ones that went on for miles and she was pretty sure didn't stop at the clouds – but the forest in the Village was endless and serene.

Her brother, Keaton, liked to sell their wood at the market down by the square. He usually cut down the trunks and Bex liked to separate them into smaller pieces to sell. Keaton had made quite a name for himself, but his competitors like to say it was because he was a brother of a Victor. He didn't think of her that way, though. Bex was still _Bex_. She wasn't the cold-blooded killer and Capitol princess he saw on TV. Bex prayed that someday she'd think of herself the same way.

She was starting to break out in a sweat as she brought the axe down on a large piece of wood and it split in two at her feet. She wiped her forehead and threw the pieces in a wheel barrel to her right. Using her father's tools made her feel closer to him – wherever he may be. Even when she brought out his old wheel barrel, she remembered when he used to cart her along with it and her laughter would fill the air. Now, she used it to pass along firewood to her fellow Victors. Bex had made it a weekly chore while she was back in Seven: whatever wood that Keaton told her was extra scrap, she would cart it along in the wheel barrel and dump portions of it on the stoops of her Victors' mansions.

It was kind of like a contribution of friendship, although she had never really been the best of friends with them. Bex didn't talk to the other Victors once they were back in the District. She may have known them all for years, but she didn't exactly want to be their friends once she was back home. Friendly neighbors would suffice. They just reminded her more of the Capitol, and then the Games, and even the blood still crusted underneath her nails that she bit down to the nub.

But she was _entirely_ an ass. She did want to help.

With a wide smile on his lips, Keaton stalked into the long grass behind their house to where Bex stood, grabbing two more split pieces of wood from the ground. As she tossed them into the barrel, she turned to see Keaton approaching, a large glass of water in his hand. Bex immediately took it from his calloused grip and downed the whole glass. Wiping the excess from her mouth, she muttered, "Thanks."

"You're working overtime," Keaton laughed, taking the glass back. "Seriously, Bex, you've been out here for hours. Why don't you come outside and rest?"

Bex allowed her arm with the axe to go limp at her side. "There's no rest for the wicked, Keaton." She tilted her head to the sky and watched the clouds begin to gather. "Besides, it's a nice day out. The air is cool, but not too cold. This all feels _nice_ –"

"It looks like it's going to downpour," he added, looking in the same direction.

Bex rolled her eyes and set another stump on the chopping block. Readying her axe on top of it, she replied, "I'll go inside when it starts to rain."

Keaton suddenly put his hand on the handle. "Bex, come on now."

She eyed him skeptically. "What do you want exactly?"

"Was it _that_ obvious that I wanted something?"

Bex sighed, placing their father's old axe against the chopping block. She waited for him to continue with her hands on her hips.

"I was – well ..." Keaton sent his best puppy dog eyes. "I was wondering if you'd make beef stew tonight. Mom's old recipe."

She scratched the back of her neck and wiped off the sweat that was piling up. "I'd have to go to the market to get the ingredients ..." She looked at the sky again. "... Like _now_ before everyone closes their stands for the storm. What's so special that you need this tonight?"

Keaton blinked rapidly. He had been gifted with their mother's pretty blue eyes. "How could you forget?" He asked. "It would've been mom and dad's thirty-second anniversary. That was their favorite meal."

Sighing through her nostrils, Bex nodded. "Oh," she muttered softly, "sometimes I forget."

He arched a brow.

"Yeah, I'll make it tonight." She agreed, walking over to the wheel barrel and hauling it up. "Let me just hand some of the extra out and I'll meet you inside before I leave for the market."

Keaton grinned big and began to sprint back to the house. She really couldn't believe that she almost forgot, but to her defense, she had been forgetting a lot of things lately. Her mind would be forever stuck in Capitol-Land and her brother still wouldn't know the difference.

Perhaps ... ignorance _was_ bliss.

Shoving the wheel barrel forward, Bex first stopped at Nico Cadoc's place with the dead rose bushes in the front. Nico mentored her with Blight during her Games, but she hardly ever saw him leave when Johanna took over his position with her. He had always been quiet and a homebody, but he was getting worse as time went on. Bex heaved out a sigh and placed a stack of wood right by steps, looking off into the distance at the wreckage of Blight's old mansion.

Bex didn't know how long he had been gone at this point. Seven? Maybe six years? It was probably a good thing she couldn't remember. Blight shot himself a few months after Bex won her Games, and his house was slowly decaying as the years went on. She could still see the crack in the bricks from where the bullet went through his head and then through the wall, landing somewhere in the Victors' Village. He had shot twice for good measure. The second bullet was found in his skull. Bex walked in the opposite direction to get to Johanna's house, just to rid herself of the memory as quickly as possible.

Johanna Mason lived in the last house on the right. It was still _slightly_ in good shape, but she clearly didn't water the rose bushes as much as Keaton did. Bex didn't fault her really. It was just Johanna living in that house. The pixie-haired girl could talk for hours, ranting violently about whatever was on her mind at the moment, but she didn't dare utter a word about what happened to her family. Bex didn't share about her own either. Still, she was curious and wanted to know if they suffered the same fate of her parents: lost in the void forever, no trace left of them.

Bex tilted the wheel barrel and let the rest of the chopped wood fall right near the stoop. Bending down, she began to carefully stack them together so they would be easier for her fellow Victor to carry in. As she placed the last piece on the top, Johanna's front door slammed open, and out walked the woman herself with a fresh buzzcut. Her dark skin was shimmering against the last light before the storm, and her dark eyes were fixated on Bex as she stood up. Gripping the barrel handles tightly, Bex sent her a quick smile before heading back to her house.

"Hey!" Johanna called, taking two steps down the stairs with her arms crossed over her chest. Bex looked over her shoulder. "Why are you always delivering firewood?" Her tone was harsh and demanding.

Bex huffed under her breath and slowly stepped backwards to face Johanna. She suddenly remembered why she didn't talk to her that often. "Well, unlike _some people_ , I can actually be nice once in a while. That seems to be a difficult task for others."

Johanna lifted her top lip into a snarl. "Are you _serious_ , Bex? You don't talk to any of us, so _sorry_ if I think it's unexpected. You don't even speak to Nico once you both leave the Capitol."

" _You_ don't talk to Nico either," she argued, a stern finger pointed in her direction. "Nico doesn't speak to any of us. That's just how he is now – how _all_ of us are now. This is our balance, so don't screw with it."

"That doesn't mean it's a good balance," Johanna retorted, glancing off into the distance with a knitted brow. "No wonder Blight offed himself right after you won –"

The wheel barrel slipped out of Bex's grip and collided with the stone path. Bex's blood ran cold as she stalked towards Johanna, seething, "Maybe it's time for you to _shut_ –"

"Hello, girls!"

Confusion flashed across Bex's face instantly. She stepped away from Johanna and turned around. Walking through the entrance of the Victors' Village, beaming from ear to ear, was District Seven escort, Phoenix Demi. He was dressed head to toe in bright orange, a complete contradiction to how the sky looked at that moment. Their stylist, Iliana, tried to match his pace, but her ten-inch red heels were making it a little difficult. The two were followed by an entourage of Capitol-folk, all carting along suitcases filled to the brink with who-knows-what. Bex wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

Johanna chuckled behind her. Bex watched the group quickly make their way up the path with confusion rattling her brain and hands on her hips. With a big smile, Johanna walked down the stoop and halted right behind Bex's ear. "I can see you have a Capitol gala tonight," she giggled. "Try not to let President Snow get too handsy."

Bex sent Johanna a glare and elbowed her in the stomach. The other Victor coughed when Bex's elbow hit her gut and took a step back to her home. Phoenix approached Bex with his hands out. "I really am the brightest spot in this gloomy weather right now," he complimented himself, grabbing her hands and lifting them up. "It's a _good thing_ we're getting you out of here. The sun is so perfect in the Capitol right now. It's warm and delightful. We're doing you a great kindness."

She feigned a smile as Iliana copied her escort's expression. Bex glanced to Johanna over her shoulder, who was chuckling away until she shut the door in her face. She, again, had completely forgotten something important, _and_ it was Capitol-related. Keaton was going to be _furious_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Petals for Armor! This fanfiction has been originally posted on my Wattpad account (@stxrmborn) and I decided on posting it here too. It's fun to cross-publish sometimes! I've slipped back into the Hunger Games fandom after the new book was announced (although I LOATHE that it's about President Snow yuck), and thought, "Why not write a Finnick fic as if we're back in high school?" Act I will be a Pre-Catching Fire plot, showing Bex's life and her biddings for the Capitol. (I will be stretching out the canon timeline for this, mainly because I feel like we jump into the Quarter Quell way too fast, but that might just be me.) Act II will be the actual 75th Hunger Games, and we'll see where we go from there! If I'm inspired enough, there could be even a third act for the events of Mockingjay.
> 
> While I love the District 4 Best Friend OC plot with most Finnick fics (seriously, I'm a sucker for them), I wanted to do something different here. I wanted to focus on a lesser-known district like District 7, especially since they happen to have more of an advantage in the Games with the residents being trained to work with tools and weapons at a young age. Also, in case you're interested in how I imagine these characters, I've casted Melisa Pamuk as Bex. (More of the cast listing can be found in the link below, where I originally published this story on Wattpad.)
> 
> Additionally, if someone doesn't make the connection, the title and some themes of this fanfic are inspired by Hayley Williams' solo project titled, "Petals for Armor." Her songs "Simmer" and "Over Yet" are pretty big anthems for this story and speak to the themes I'm trying to put forward. So I would give those songs a listen if you haven't heard of them yet! If not for this story, then for the music itself; the songs talk about feminine anger, resistance, and are all-around really great.
> 
> Finally, some warnings: please be aware that this story features PTSD, violence, sexual scenes, sex work, forced prostitution, cursing, and character deaths. Do not read if you are uncomfortable with those.
> 
> If you also would like to read this on Wattpad, here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/217187952-petals-for-armor-%E2%94%81-finnick-odair


	2. PROMISES, PROMISES

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER TWO

#####  **__________________________**

**"YOU** look surprised to see us," Phoenix said, though it sounded more like a question. He turned to Iliana on his left. "Why is she surprised to see us?"

Bex frowned. Whenever her escort and stylist rolled up to the gates of the Victors' Village, her stomach lurched. It felt like rocks were stacking up inside of her, preparing themselves to topple down. She had no ill will towards her team – well, Iliana _could_ be a little over the top sometimes – but as far as Capitol people went, they weren't that bad. Phoenix was built like a god with dark skin and bright eyes that looked like they had been crafted by the sun. Tattoos of different colors coated his entire body, even reaching up to his neck, and he got piercings wherever he pleased. (Currently, it was just his brows, ears, and septum, but Bex didn't doubt there would be more.) Iliana, on the other hand, was like a blooming flower. Always dressed head to toe in bright colors and pastels that accented her yellow and brown hair; her personality was reflected in the outfits she designed for Bex. If not for Iliana, Bex wouldn't have gotten the nickname, _Flower Girl_ , in the first place.

Although she liked them, the sight of Phoenix and Iliana never sat well with her. It meant that she was being summoned, that the peace she was promised would never truly be her reality. She had a duty to perform, and that _duty_ usually meant attending public events where she would be ogled and her life was once again everyone's business because she could _never_ turn down a question, no matter how sensitive the subject. Feeding into their President's agenda was exhausting, but it needed to be done.

Bex didn't even want to think about Keaton's reaction. He would get red in the face, and his eyes would form into slits as soon as Phoenix and Iliana walked through the door. Bex never blamed him for his anger. Both she and her brother knew that whatever party she was being forced to attend wouldn't be just _some_ _party_ – it was a _business event_. She'd be gone for a few days, if she was lucky.

"Seriously," Phoenix continued, walking with her towards the house, "what's wrong? I reminded you before you left last time about this party."

"It's been a while," Bex sighed. "I thought I'd be given more time here before I'd have to go back."

Both Phoenix and Iliana went silent. Bex hauled the empty wheel barrel to the side of her house and met her team back by the stoop. "It won't be long," Phoenix assured, charismatic as ever with his accent.

"Yes, it will," she muttered under her breath. "Sue me for thinking I could have a normal existence."

Iliana released a huff. "Well, not in _those_ clothes."

Bex rolled her eyes and held open the front door for them. Phoenix ushered their assistants in first, dragging the heaps of suitcases along with them. Bex raised a brow at all the gear they brought. "We'll only touch you up while we're here and get you out of those sweaty clothes. The rest can be done on the train," Phoenix explained, sauntering into the threshold of the house. "This party is pretty important, Bex. It's President Snow's granddaughter's birthday, and she's the light of his life. You need to look your best and be prepared for however long the President wants you there. I heard that he missed you and Johanna before you left the Capitol during the Games last year."

"Well, _damn_ ," Bex whispered sarcastically and shut the door behind them. "Just to let you know, if my brother comes in all mad, I'm sorry for anything –"

"What's going on here?"

Keaton was descending the stairs when he noticed the four extra people assembled in his house. His face went to stone as he remembered the familiar faces of his sister's Capitol team, and he looked at her with confusion. "What are they doing here, Bex?"

"They're here ... to see me. Yay!" She lifted her hands up enthusiastically, and after a long moment, her team caught on and repeated the action.

Keaton wasn't convinced one bit. He crossed his arms over his chest and arched a brow in his sister's direction.

Bex's hand fell limp at her hips. "Okay, I'm lying."

"Damn, you _were_? Couldn't tell."

She rubbed at the back of her neck and gestured for her brother to follow her into the dining room. They hadn't used this room since their parents vanished. They hardly stepped foot in it, preferring to eat their dinner in the living room or even the kitchen. Just the mere thought of using this room other than to gather with her parents made her freeze. The second they stepped into it, Bex imagined her parents at the table, and had to look away quickly to keep herself focused.

"This is a special night, Bex," he already started, pointing a finger down the hall. "It's important, and the last people I want to see are those _foolish_ - _looking_ –"

"Keaton, _Keaton_ ," she called, silencing her brother, "don't get yourself worked about over this. They won't be here for _long_ –"

He blinked. "Oh, okay. That's good."

"– Because I have to leave with them to go to the Capitol."

His expression turned to stone again. Bex noticed the way his jaw went tight and his pale eyes were now blazing. This night meant a lot to him, and it meant the same to her, but a Victor's duties came before anything else. She didn't like it, but it wasn't like she had a choice anymore.

Since the Districts rebelled all those years ago, life had never been the same. Her life simply wasn't _hers_ anymore.

"Why?" Her brother asked flatly.

Bex closed her eyes for a moment. "I have to go to an event for President Snow's granddaughter's birthday." When she opened them again, Keaton scoffing and shaking his head. "You _know_ it's not my choice. I'll try to be back as soon as possible."

"It won't be quick enough," he quipped. "It's our _parents' anniversary_. Do you get that? Do _they_ –" He jabbed his finger in the direction of the threshold. "– Get _that_?"

"It doesn't matter what _they_ _get_ , Keaton. I have to go." Bex sighed and grabbed his hands. "I can make the beef stew as soon as I get back and we can celebrate then. _Promise_. I don't break my promises."

Keaton slipped his hands out of her grip. "It's not about the fucking beef stew, Bex!" He ran a hand down his face. "You can't just cancel?"

Bex felt the blood rush to her face. She hated when he put her in these positions, when he knew _very well_ that she could not cancel. With a heavy exhale, Bex approached his face and whispered harshly, "Last time I did, mom and dad went missing. I don't want anything like that to happen again." Keaton's eyes slid over to hers. She watched him swallow hard. "I have to go."

After a moment, he nodded, looking to his feet. Bex took his hand again and squeezed it before exiting the dining room. Her agreement with President Snow was nonnegotiable – it had been for years. These events were where she could please the citizens as much as they wanted. So they could view her like an object. It was her debt to the President and she couldn't break it. Keaton knew all of this, but he didn't like it. Not one bit.

He glanced at the dinner table, imagining the last time he saw his parents sitting there. He looked away just as quickly.

Bex found her team in the living room, flipping through the _Capitol Times_ magazine that laid on her coffee table, untouched for weeks. (She really needed to figure a way to cancel her subscription.) Phoenix held up a page for Iliana and sneered, "This looks like one of yours, Ana! I told you that Petra Paramour was stealing your designs!"

Iliana snatched the magazine and her mouth dropped. "That _conniving_ , _little_ –"

"Hell _ooo_ ," Bex interrupted, waving her hands around. "If you're all done gossiping, I believe we have to get a move on."

"You're darn right, missy!" Iliana exclaimed before chucking the magazine behind her, hitting one of her assistants in the face.

Bex cringed. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw Keaton entering, and clearly everyone else did too.

Iliana cleared her throat, "Let's head to your room. We'll get ready there and help you pack a bag."

Nodding her head, Bex sent her brother one last smile and escorted her team up the stairs. There were only two rooms upstairs: Bex's bedroom and her parents' old room, which had remained untouched since they disappeared. They had only lived in the Village for a solid two months before _it_ happened. Bex, nor Keaton, had been in their room since. Not even a peak. The door would stay closed no matter what.

Upon entering her bedroom, Bex picked a few stray clothes off the floor and threw them into her hamper. She went into her closet and yanked out her suitcase that Iliana had gifted her years ago. "Let me just pack first," she said, placing the bag on her unmade bed.

"Nonsense, nonsense," Phoenix said, ushering her towards the old vanity in the corner of the room. It had once belonged to her mother. "That's what Iliana's minions are for."

Iliana stomped over. "Phoenix!"

"Come on, Ana. Let's not fight." He cooed, sitting Bex down and hauling Iliana's large makeup case on the vanity. "Just do a natural look on her in case anyone sees her getting on the train. I'll pick out something less dirty from her closet. We're on a time crunch."

With a roll of her eyes, Iliana opened up her case and went to work. Bex could see her assistants stuffing her suitcase to the brink with various pajamas and other clothes, although she probably wouldn't wear them the second she stepped foot in the Capitol. They were always providing her with more of _their_ style. When she closed her eyes so Iliana could apply a matte pink shadow across her lid, Bex listened in on Phoenix muttering to himself in her closet. He threw around words like, "Ugly," and, "Oh, no, we are _not_ wearing that," even, "Who allowed her out in this?!" Bex sighed heavily through her nostrils and tried to ignore it. She focused on the rain as it began to pound against the roof.

Iliana only applied some mascara and a tiny bit of lip gloss before she was done. Thankfully, Bex didn't have to walk to the train in some kind of wild Capitol makeup that the residents of Seven would cringe to look at. She also left her hair natural and wild, much to Bex's approval. Phoenix came out of her closet with a pair of black pants, her favorite maroon sweater, and a dark brown peacoat to protect her from the rain. "Works for me," Bex said, taking the clothes into her arms and changing in her bathroom. When she walked out minutes later, Phoenix clapped.

"I am really _that_ smart," he sighed happily. "I could probably find a needle in a haystack."

"Remember who the stylist is here, Phoenix," Iliana seethed. "You paired a sweater with a hardly-worn peacoat. I could've done better."

Bex exclaimed, "Hey! Doesn't matter. It's just for the train." She grabbed her best pair of rainboots beside her closet door and tugged them on. Iliana's assistants zipped Bex's suitcase closed before packing up the rest of her things.

"Oh, _no_ ," Iliana bit her lip. "Those boots totally clash! We can't –"

Bex stood up to reach her stylist's eye level. "It's _raining_."

Iliana frowned and gave up the fight. "Well, I guess you have a point."

Phoenix placed himself in the middle, sending them a bright smile. "Let's head out everyone. Remember: time crunch. _Time crunch_!"

The assistants were down the stairs first, taking the most time due to all the bags they were forced to carry. They hadn't said a word since arriving, and Bex almost wondered if they were like the Avoxes in the Capitol. Knock on wood; she hoped she was mistaken. After them, Iliana delicately strode down, careful of her high heels, before Phoenix walked with Bex. Keaton was waiting on the couch, but quickly got to his feet once his sister entered the room.

"We'll just be ..." Iliana jabbed her thumb in the direction of the kitchen. "Find us when you're ready."

Phoenix patted Bex's hand before following Iliana to the kitchen. He sent Keaton a warm smile, but her brother didn't return it. He met her in the threshold of the house, holding in his laughter at the rain boots she most likely fought with her team to wear. "Mom gave you those," he noted when their eyes met.

Bex tapped her boots together. "It's a good thing my feet haven't gotten bigger. I'd be shit out of luck."

Keaton chuckled and pulled his sister into a bone-crushing hug. She squeezed him tighter. Her head always fit perfectly on his shoulder, right near the crook of his neck. Her older brother was her rock, the last thing she had when things got tough. She couldn't lose him, which was why she had to go. If she didn't follow her duties with the Capitol – _with_ _Snow_ – he could vanish too.

"Promise you'll come back soon," he whispered softly.

"I promise," Bex said, muffled against his t-shirt. She did her best not to cry and ruin Iliana's work. Another minute later, Bex leaned back. "I don't break my promises."

Keaton smiled and cupped her cheek. "Course you don't, sis."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these siblings 🥺 One of my favorite parts to write in this story is Bex's struggling relationship with her brother. They clash over her duties that she's forced to perform and they're still coping with their parents' disappearance/death, but they do still care about each other really deeply, which is what I want to convey the most. Keaton is one of the only people Bex cares about and she wants to keep it that way, buuuuuuuut ... Well, we'll see what happens!
> 
> I hope this chapter was enjoyable! Next chapter: Snow's party and an appearance from a certain golden boy!


	3. GAME OF SURVIVAL

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER THREE

#####  **__________________________**

**BY** the time night fell, Bex was already on the way to the Capitol. She didn't understand why her team insisted on getting her put together in case people saw them walking to the train. Her popularity in her own District wasn't that immense anymore. When she had first won, there used to be lines of people waiting for her to get off the train or on, all congratulating her for bringing glory to their District. She kissed babies' heads and hugged weeping parents. It was all rather consuming.

Now, no one batted an eyelash for Bex Nassar. No one waited by the train tracks, hungry for her arrival. No one gave her a second look as she walked through the food market. She liked it so much better this way.

Bex was thrown into a cold shower almost immediately. They were to arrive in the Capitol in a few hours. She did her best to cram a few finger sandwiches in her mouth, but Phoenix had shoved her towards the backroom and reminded her that "a Victor is _never_ late. Even when they _are_ late, they aren't. Everyone else is simply early." She didn't have the willpower to fight with him as she took an extra sandwich to her personal bathroom.

The cold water from the shower helped her get out faster. Her stylist did this purposely; she knew Bex well enough that she liked to take super hot showers, using that time to think over who-knows-what. They didn't have that kind of time. The shower lasted a total of ten minutes, and then Bex was thrown into the vanity station.

As Iliana's team gathered around and began to prep her face, Bex continued to chomp down on the last of the sandwich she'd stolen from the dining area. Iliana tsked and snatched it from her hand, causing Bex to yell, "Hey!"

"We do _not_ need you eating and getting bloated before an important event," the stylist reminded.

"I haven't eaten any dinner," Bex argued. "Just let me finish it."

Iliana's hand hovered over the trash can. "Well ... alright," she sighed, walking back over and handing her Victor the last piece.

Bex smiled and plopped it into her mouth. "Thanks."

After her face was squeaky clean, the team turned to Iliana with hopeful eyes. They spun Bex around in the chair and Iliana gazed down at her. Finally, the stylist lifted a finger and her eyes lit up. "I have a vision," she giggled, shooing her team off to the side and placing her hand on the back of Bex's chair. Iliana met the Victor's eyes in the mirror. "Hair curled. Half-up, half-down. A crown braid wrapped at the top of her head with flowers woven in it. Natural, spiky brows. Natural lips, _but_ –" She swung back to her team. "A green and turquoise look on the eyes. I'm thinking ... messy green glitter, and taking it all the way down the corner of the eye, and slightly down the bridge of the nose. What do we think about that?"

"You're a genius, Iliana," one of them beamed.

Another agreed with a nod, " _Pure genius_."

"Can you all get a room?" Bex sniggered.

Iliana glared at her in the mirror before turning the chair slightly in her direction. "Team: work on the hair. I'll take care of the face."

Bex rolled her eyes and allowed them to pick her apart. Piece by piece, section by section. She was hardly recognizable by the end of these makeup sessions, but she was distinguishable to the _Capitol_ , which was all that mattered. At the very least, she was grateful that Iliana wanted to keep her brows natural and intact, only brushing them with a thin coat of gel. That part of her remained the same. The real Bex Nassar was still visible, even as she was being masked with glitter and braids.

Phoenix walked in at some point and sat down in an empty chair near the vanity. Instead of arguing with Iliana's styling choices, he complimented her work. Phoenix had once told Bex that he wanted to be a stylist, but at the time, it was rare for men to obtain that kind of job, so he stuck with being a gracious escort. The Capitol's views on male stylists had changed drastically since then, and there were certainly more men in the field than women. Even District Twelve's stylist, Cinna, was now being commended for his work in the 74th Games. Phoenix, however, was left to admire and praise, and he learned to live with it.

Iliana began to drag the green dust down the sides of Bex's nose when she spoke up again, but her tone was softer, less obnoxious: "I wonder if the Girl on Fire will be in attendance tonight. This _is_ one of the President's grand parties."

Phoenix played with one of Iliana's makeup brushes and twirled it in between his fingers. He snorted, "I doubt it. Not with the ruckus she's been causing."

Bex was still awestruck at District Twelve's win in last year's Games. She didn't watch the 74th Games, due to her tributes dying on the first day, and thus, she was able to return to Seven quicker than she imagined. Bex didn't like watching the Games and took every chance to ignore them for as long as they ran, but she could never overlook the results, even if she tried. She was too curious for her own good. Bex never thought she'd see a win like that, but stranger things had happened before. Not only did the lowest District win, but the Capitol – somehow, someway – allowed both Katniss and her male tribute, Peeta Mellark, to win _together_. It seemed too good to be true. The Gamemakers must've had an angle here. What could this do for future Games?

She began to pick at the nail buds on her free hand while one of Iliana's assistants painted the other. Looking up at her team's conversation, she remarked, "I heard Katniss and Peeta's victory tour went well enough."

Iliana and Phoenix shared a confused look. "Not exactly," the stylist muttered before leaning back. Iliana studied her for a moment, and then pick up a palette full of her favorite blue shadows. "Let me ask you, Bex: as the youngest person in room, do _you_ believe those two teenagers are really in love?"

"Katniss and Peeta?" Bex chewed on her bottom lip. _No_ , she wanted to say, but she held her tongue. Bex may have not watched the Games, but she's seen those two lovebirds more than enough on TV to know that they had zero feelings for each other. But she knew the game they were pulling: the game of _survival_. They were willing to do anything for it, and if that meant pretending to be in love, she understood. She just wished they could be better actors about it.

Eventually, Bex shrugged. "Well –"

"Because _I_ don't believe it, and many others feel the same. I heard it affected their victory tour quite greatly." Iliana smiled down at her and dusted blue on the edge of her lid.

" _Quite_?" Phoenix chuckled. "Some of her visits ended in protests and riots. I've talked to some of the other escorts and they're worried if there might be ..." He trailed off, but Bex knew what word he was about to say.

 _Uprisings_. He wanted to talk about uprisings, like the one the Districts had all those years ago. How could one teenage girl's win be the start of history repeating itself? Just because people didn't believe her love story?

Bex kept her face expressionless, too afraid to show her confusion. She asked, rather quietly, "What if that does happen?" Bex paused, and Iliana's brush strokes stopped for a mere moment. Even her assistants didn't know what to do. "An uprising, I mean. What would happen?"

"Best not to think about that," Iliana replied, beaming from ear-to-ear once again. "That Katniss Everdeen is indeed a firecracker, but your reputation, dear Bex, is _immaculate_. Don't let her ruin it."

#####  **__________________________**

Bex had been fidgeting with her dress all night.

Iliana had shoved her into a mermaid-style dress with an _extremely_ low-cut V-neck top and a split in the middle that dared to show even more of her thighs. It was made out of sparkly green fabric that changed into a dark turquoise color when she brushed her hand against it, a perfect match for the look Iliana created on her eyes. The V-neck almost cut all the way down to her navel, and Bex couldn't help but try to pull it up throughout the night. Phoenix kept urging her to leave it alone.

She had arrived with Phoenix a little later than expected, but as he said before, a Victor was _never_ truly late. Bex was always in awe whenever she approached the President's house. He could probably have twenty people living in his mansion and _still_ have room to spare. He had colorful lights in every corner of the outside gardens, where the party was taking place, as well as enough food that could feed all of Panem. The wait staff were practically dancing around the party as they entered the scene, pushing through the clusters of people.

It was weird to think about how some Districts were starving, but the people in the Capitol had more than enough food to go around. They probably wouldn't even think twice about throwing away a whole loaf of bread, when Bex as a child had once seen a person so starved he started to eat a half-eaten apple off the ground.

Strangers and familiar faces grabbed at her arm to say hi, but Bex continued to follow Phoenix and allowed him to talk with whomever he deemed important. She didn't really like anyone here anyway; she didn't have a preference on who to talk to. With a hearty chuckle, Phoenix embraced some of his friends, Mr. and Mrs. Feury, and Bex shook their hands with as much enthusiasm that she could muster. The couple looked excited to see her just as much as Phoenix, and Mrs. Feury wouldn't stop talking about her hair.

"Oh, I would _kill_ for those curls," she complained, picking up a limp piece of purple hair, as if it wasn't obviously a wig. "And those white roses in the crown! The President _does_ favor those. Your stylist is so ..."

Bex learned to drown her out after a while. Just sending any of these people a fake smile made them believe you were listening. Bex turned her head and looked around at the bustling waiters and the groups of people chatting away. She met someone's eyes at a table in the far right corner of the gardens – a man with blue hair and dark eyes that sparkled in the moonlight – but she turned away quickly. Bex continued to scan the room while nodding along with Mrs. Feury's small talk.

Standing at a table with a man adorning a fuchsia suit that matched his hair was Cashmere from District One. Bex hadn't spoken a lot with the beautiful blonde, but they were friendly enough to send each other genuine smiles across the room. Same with Cecelia from District Eight, who was definitely forced away from her family just to attend this stupid party tonight. Bex could see it on her face. She was grinning at the Capitol men that stood around her, but she was dying on the inside, probably because she knew how this night would end. All three women did.

This was their debt to Snow, and he didn't want cash. They had no choice but to agree.

Bex scanned the gardens once again, finding another familiar face seated with a multitude of Capitol women. Finnick Odair was leaning his cheek into his palm as the pink-haired woman in front of him rambled on about some idiotic subject, and the rest of the group stared at him with different expressions of lust, awe, and even agony. These Capitol citizens – especially the _women_ – would do anything for him. No one was more loved than Finnick of District Four. He was their Golden Boy, another one of Snow's prodigies in the ring that would never end.

Their eyes met from across the floor, and Finnick sent her the same charismatic smirk that probably made most women weak in the knees, or made them question about leaving their partners. She couldn't blame them. Finnick was pretty, she'd give him that. He was everything the Capitol wanted in a Victor.

Bex's eyes flickered away, mouth staying in a hard frown.

Eventually, she became too hungry for her own good. Bex always forgot that the champagne they liked to serve at these parties was laced with an ingredient to make you feel hungry so you could eat more. She patted Phoenix on her arm as he was speaking with more Capitol citizens – a couple named Amethyst and Zuro, to be exact – and whispered that she was going to look for the food table. Phoenix acknowledged her with a nod before she went off.

Bex played with the halter of her gown again as she meandered through the groups of people, some trying to haul her into their conversations and her trying to politely decline. (It was infuriating that she had to be nice to these people that acted so rudely in the first place.) Finally, Bex found a table near the left side of the party, stacked with multiple different food items. Macaroons, cake, fried duck, finger sandwiches, even slices of berry pie – all waiting for her to shove into her mouth. She was practically drooling at the sight of it.

She licked her fingers after plopping a whole green macaroon in her mouth, savoring the sweetness on her tongue. Bex then picked up a plate and began piling whatever caught her eye onto it. She didn't care who was watching, who was gawking at her diet choices – and for once, she was grateful for President Snow. Music started to play as he arrived on his balcony, and Bex continued to place more macaroons in her mouth now that people weren't paying attention. The President's hand was laced with his granddaughter's while he thanked everyone for attending.

Bex loved to forget about his existence when she could get away with it.

Piercing a piece of cake with her fork, she turned her head at the exact moment someone else appeared at her side. Bex's brow furrowed as Finnick Odair leaned against the food table. He plucked a tart from one of the many dessert stacks and placed it in his mouth, smirking in her direction. She eyed him down for a quick moment. He was wearing tight blue pants with embellished fish scales and a puffy-sleeved white shirt. The cut on his shirt was almost as low as her own, revealing the freckles that dotted not only his face but his chiseled torso too. A fishbone necklace dangled elegantly on his neck.

Bex was never too sure how she felt about Finnick. Of course, she empathized with him since they shared the same agreement with Snow, but she wasn't under his spell like the rest of Panem. She figured that out the second she laid eyes on him all those years ago, after she won her Games. Bex never found his charisma that enticing, nor did she like his personality. He was kind of full of himself, if you asked her. She had never met him before his Games, but the Capitol had certainly done a number when they turned him into their perfect Victor.

"Our lovely President is talking," Finnick muttered, gesturing to her, "and you can't even pretend to pay him any mind."

Bex's stare flickered up to the balcony again. Snow took his granddaughter into his arms and allowed her to wave to everyone. "I'm sure President Snow is getting all the attention he needs tonight."

Finnick chuckled under his breath before sliding closer to her. He tapped a finger on his chin and surveyed the crowd. "You must warn me before I get too ahead of myself this evening –"

"The night is still young," Bex reminded.

"– Who do you plan on taking home tonight?" He whispered, a smile playing at the corners of his pink lips. "You know, back to the hotel after this whole shindig is over? Just so I know who has dibs."

Bex looked away, watching everyone clap for Snow up above. "I don't want to talk about this," she said through gritted teeth.

"With _me_? But we're on the same playing field." He flashed her a grin. She scowled in his direction, and Finnick was pretty sure her dark eyes could cut like daggers. "It's good to see you, Bex Nassar. How's District Seven? Woodsy as always?"

He _really_ needed to learn to take a hint. Bex was suddenly reminded of another reason why she didn't like Finnick: he talked _far_ too much for her liking.

"As much as I _love_ engaging in this conversation," she replied, a hint of malice in her already icy tone, "it's more dangerous than we can imagine."

People began to shout, and Bex turned her head to see them clapping in the other direction: away from Snow, much to his disapproval. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark strode into the gates of the party with their mentor, Haymitch Abernathy. Peeta sent everyone a toothy smile while Katniss remained displeased as always. They were both dressed head-to-toe in reds, oranges, and yellows, a nod to Katniss' fiery nickname in the Capitol. The guests looked more excited to see the District Twelve tributes than the actual girl that the party was for, but as Bex glanced at the balcony, she noticed that Snow's granddaughter was just as ecstatic.

Bex felt someone's breath on the back of her neck, and every single hair on her body stood up. Finnick's mouth brushed against her ear as he whispered, "I've been told people don't believe her love story, that she's been inspiring some _riots_." He paused and released a chuckle. Bex's eyes slowly slid over to his. "Would you join her?"

She held her breath then. How _dare_ he try to have this conversation in public? Maybe the Capitol couldn't do anything to him, but they certainly could to _her_. The President had taken so much of her and she'd be damned if she played into this discussion with Finnick Odair. It would only hurt her in the end. She had enough with the hurting.

Clearing her throat, Bex spun on the edge of her eight-inch heel. "Nice speaking with you, Finnick."

He flashed her a bright grin. "Likewise."


	4. THAT SMILE

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER FOUR

#####  **__________________________**

**BEX** had always done her best to dodge people at these parties, but her efforts were little to no avail, especially with Phoenix at her side. She was content in staying with him all night, sharing a few drinks and maybe even some of the fancy cakes, but she had a job to do tonight, and just about all of her team knew it. They just didn't like to speak of it much.

After an hour of avoiding his wandering stare, Phoenix introduced Bex to the man with blue hair and sparkling eyes. He said his name was Atlas, and he cupped her hands as if they held the world. His teeth were so bright and perfect. Bex was pretty sure he had one of the best smiles she'd ever seen. Phoenix walked off as Atlas pulled out a chair for her to sit, a worried look in his stare, though he knew any efforts were useless. Bex needed to do what was asked of her.

"I've been wanting to get to know you for what seems like ages," Atlas purred, hands still wrapped around her own. Bex felt her cheeks heat up and her fingers get sweaty, but his grip remained soft as he set their hands on the table. "The Flower Girl of District Seven. It's truly an honor."

She beamed in his direction. "Just call me Bex."

"Bex," he hummed, like her name was a song. "Is that short for something?"

She hated this kind of small talk, as if the night wasn't going to the end the way it would, as if something could bloom over this own interaction. Nothing was going to happen. They wouldn't pursue a relationship. It was a one-time thing and clients accepted that. She just hated the pretending. Honestly, Bex would rather them both leave for the hotel right now and get this night over with.

But they wouldn't – _she couldn't_. There was a process to these things, and as Bex turned her head for a short moment to see Finnick still gazing fondly at that pink-haired girl, she realized he was an _expert_ in it.

Finally, Bex replied, "No, just Bex. But I was slightly named after my mother, Rebekah. My brother was named after my father, but he never liked to add the _Jr._ at the end."

Atlas chuckled, "Your parents sound like very beautiful people."

 _They were_ , she thought, but kept her mouth in a tight line.

"Why have you been wanting to meet me, Atlas?" She asked, changing the subject as quickly as she could.

"Why doesn't anyone want to meet you? You're one of the Capitol's darlings, one of our favorite Victors." He squeezed her hand, and Bex caught sight of the glittering blue polish on his nails. "I remember watching your Games all those years ago. I was only five years older than you, but _you_ , Bex Nassar, you showed true strength. You stuck it out until the end; you showed those Careers what District Seven was made of and I respected that. But when you won and _finally_ visited the Capitol once again, I saw _you_." He wagged a finger in her direction. "I _really_ saw you."

She was getting bored with this conversation. "And what did you see?"

Atlas sat back in his chair, studying her like she was a painting. His hands released her own and she slid them under the table to wipe off the sweat. Bex tilted her chin higher, fixed her posture – anything to keep his eyes on _her_ so they could leave this party already.

"Beauty," he murmured. "The heart of District Seven."

Eventually, Bex found their conversation drifting and she got the courage to ask him to visit her room. The party was winding down and even the President had left hours ago. There was nothing left of night but this one last part. Atlas, of course, obliged and hailed a car to take them back to the Starmorning Hotel, situated right in the center of the Capitol. Phoenix met Bex's stare as she exited the party with Atlas, and he made sure to follow them back to the hotel, hidden in the shadows for safety.

The Starmorning Hotel was where more Victors tended to stay when they were visiting the Capitol. It was one of the most luxurious around and it was in the heart of the entire city. Most of Bex's transactions happened here, as well as other Victors that were wrapped in Snow's debt. She always rathered they come back to her place, where she had the power and authority, and the clients usually left by morning. Anywhere else was a recipe for disaster and made her feel unsafe.

She took the elevator with Atlas to the tenth floor. As they went up and up, he stumbled right in front of her, brushing a soft kiss to her lips, which gave her an inkling to how this night was going to go. Luckily for her, he wasn't going to be one of those rough patrons that liked to pin her down and have their way. When Bex looked into his dark brown eyes, she saw delicate lips and soft hands and tenderness.

They made their way to her room, hand-in-hand, as Bex fished for the room key in her bag. As they approached the door, she struggled to find it and unlaced their hands. Atlas took this as an opportunity to push her hair off her shoulder. Her neck was fully exposed and he attached his lips to her skin gently, taking in the scent of her perfume that still lingered. Laughter echoed down the hall as she finally yanked the key out of the bottom of her purse. Bex glanced up and swallowed hard.

Just down the hall, lips interlocked with someone else's, was Finnick Odair. He had one arm latched around the pink-haired woman from the party, and Bex could see her magenta lipstick getting all over his mouth. His key was stuck in the lock too, and as he found the ability to pull away from her, he turned it. She giggled against his lips and told him how good of a kisser he was, how everyone was right about him.

And then, their eyes locked, and Bex could've sworn the hallway was now silent. Shoving the room door open, the woman staggered her way inside, giggling as if it was her job. With eyes still fixated on her, Finnick allowed his lips to curl into a smile as he raised one finger in a shushing gesture.

Bex narrowed her stare at him before taking Atlas into her own room.

#####  **__________________________**

She woke up the next morning to rain pattering against the glass window. Bex rubbed at her eyes, doing her best to drown out the storm so she could get more sleep, but it was utterly useless. A chill ran through her and she pulled the sheet up on her bare body. The clock on her bedside table produced a hologram of the time: ten thirty-seven AM. This was the first time she slept-in in a _while_ , and she tried not to make herself feel bad about it as she picked at the sleep still in her eyes.

Reaching out, Bex slid over a stack of cash that was left on the table. She fumbled through the money and counted it: the exact amount she told Atlas to leave last night. She sighed and placed the stack back on the table. A soreness pulsed between her thighs. The clock flashed the time again: ten forty AM.

One day she wouldn't have to do this. One day she could be a person again. If she was lucky.

As she sat up slightly, Bex peered over and realized a note had been left right beside the cash. She plucked the paper off the table, noticing that it was written on a hotel notepad. The writing was like chicken scratch, but she could still just make out the words:

_Let's get together again soon, Flower Girl._   
_–Atlas_

Bex chuckled, whispering to herself, "Yeah, right." She really hoped Atlas wasn't going to be one of those clients that thought something was going to happen, that there was a future for them beyond last night. Bex knew the rules to her agreement, but some Capitol-folk didn't, and it was always awkward to put them down with that wad of cash weighing down their pockets. (Call her greedy, but Bex grew up with hardly enough food to last through the week.)

Sometimes, she got flashes to her first client, and how awkward she was, and how she almost refused to accept payment. And then, she thought about Snow – his beady eyes – and she wondered if her parents screamed for her when she didn't first agree to the President's terms. Thinking of other things made the first time not hurt as much. The Capitol man had taken her innocence and he left, and that was how this agreement was supposed to go. The routine was practically burned into her brain.

Out of nowhere, the door to her bedroom burst open, and in came Phoenix, already dressed to impress. He was wearing a neon green suit that just about blinded Bex as he walked in. She immediately clutched the sheets around her, pulling them over her chest, as Phoenix did a small dance and snapped his fingers in her direction. "Good morning, miss. You –" He twirled and snapped again. "– Did great last night."

"Thanks," Bex murmured, burying her face back into the pillows. "Is my reward you letting me lie here forever?"

"Afraid not," he sighed before taking a seat on the side of the mattress. His hand patted her shoulder.

Bex slowly met his eyes. She tried to send him a smile, but failed. "Are we going home today?"

"Tomorrow," he replied. "Today ... we have more pressing matters. You're going to have a visitor."

She arched a brow.

"President Snow will be coming by in an hour. He wants to meet with you for tea."

Iliana finally revealed herself at the door, showing off the pale green dress in her hands. "It's showtime."

"What?" Bex sat up against the headboard, tugging the sheets along with her. "I just saw him yesterday. Why must I see him again?"

Both of her team members fell silent. She could see the discomfort on their faces.

"Fine," she sighed, gesturing to the door with her chin. "Phoenix, out. Iliana, in."

Iliana danced happily in the doorway as Phoenix exited. He gave the two females a salute before the door was shut in his face. Iliana hustled to get Bex ready in time. After a much-needed shower, the stylist began to fight with her green dress to get it to zip up. Bex was still a bit bloated from the night before, which did not help when she needed to be wearing a curve-hugging dress. Iliana sat her down on the bed and opened up her makeup case. The Victor looked down at the numerous supplies with worry. "Do we have enough time?"

"No one's going to see you, besides President Snow," she explained. "We want natural. We want the _essence_ of District Seven."

 _He wants to see the blood still hiding beneath those nails_ , Bex thought, but dared not to say out loud.

Iliana stayed true to her word. She gave Bex a completely natural look, which only took twenty minutes. "I could've done it in fifteen," she said, "but I'm just a perfectionist." Iliana wiped a thin coat of mascara on her eyes before placing a good amount of peach blush on her cheeks. She topped it off with sparkly lip gloss that tasted like fresh berries when Bex ran her tongue over it. Her hair was still a bit tousled and wet, so Iliana did the best she could in the short time they had: she blow-dried it, then threw it up into a ponytail, tugging loose strands to frame her face. For good measure, she placed a single white rose behind her ear.

"Perfect," Iliana muttered, admiring her work, "as usual."

Bex quickly got to her feet, slipping a pair of white heels on, as she heard a commotion on the other side of the door. Walking out into the foyer of the hotel room, she spotted Phoenix allowing President Snow inside and shaking his hand. Iliana stood at her back and placed a soft hand on her shoulder. "Breathe," she reminded. "You've done this before."

Iliana was right. She had met with Snow before – _many times_. But every time those piercing, blue eyes ran down her, she couldn't help but think of her parents: where they were, if they were alive or dead. She thought of the way the President touched her leg when she opted into their agreement, how he promised her, "Everything would be okay, as long as you abide by the rules."

She needed to remember to breathe, but it was hard, especially with those eyes that seemed to stare into the depths of her soul.

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

"President Snow," she greeted, walking forward to meeting him. Phoenix placed a hand on her back as she shot out to meet the President's welcoming hand. Iliana also appeared at her side. "It's good to see you."

"You as well," he said, a smile not quite reaching those eyes. "You're looking radiant this morning."

Bex smiled. Hers didn't reach the eyes either.

Snow shook her teams' hands and thanked them for their work. "Now," he said, gesturing to the door, where a guard now stood, "if you two don't mind, I'd like some alone time with our legendary Victor here."

"Certainly, President Snow," Phoenix answered, tugging on Iliana's hand. Panic shot right through Bex's body, but she wouldn't let it show. Her team quickly made their way to the door and walked out, but not before Phoenix could send her a confident beam.

The door clicked shut and the guard resumed his position in front of it.

Snow cleared his throat. Bex blinked and met his eyes. She plastered the best smile she could as anxiety tried climbing up her throat. Gesturing to the small sitting area in the foyer, Bex asked, "Would you sit with me? Phoenix prepared some tea for us."

The President nodded slowly. They took their places in between the coffee table, where a tea set was arranged with two steaming cups. Bex smoothed out the lines in her dress as Snow took the seat in front of her, grabbing one of the tiny cups in his big, wrinkled hand. "Hmm," he murmured, "what tea is this?"

Bex searched for an answer. "Um –"

He tasted it then. "Oh, jasmine. I love jasmine tea."

"Yes, jasmine," she blurted. "It's – um – definitely jasmine. My favorite too."

Snow paused to stare at her blankly. Bex continued to grin like her life depended on it, and maybe it did. She could never be too sure with him.

The President began to fill his tea with lots of cream and sugar. Bex sipped at her cup gingerly, and she was reminded that she _hated_ jasmine tea.

"How did you enjoy the party last night, Miss Nassar?"

His question caught her off guard. They had been silent for a few minutes and she didn't expect him to speak again. After clearing her throat, she said, "It was a lot of fun. I hope your granddaughter had a great birthday."

"Oh, she did," he said, setting his spoon on a side plate. "She was quite excited to see you. You're one of her favorites. She didn't get the chance to say hello, though. Far too busy, that child."

Bex flashed him her pearly whites and placed her cup on the table. While folding her hands together on her lap, she quipped, "A pity."

Snow had his lips on the edge of the cup, allowing the steam to run up his nostrils, and he hesitated at her response. Bex swallowed down the scream rising in her throat. After a beat of silence, he said, "I saw that you were speaking to all my dear friends last night. Atlas Pacuri took quite a liking to you."

"He was a gentleman," she muttered, scratching at her nose. "I ... enjoyed his presence and our conversation. Very funny, too. Especially, when he told me about –"

"I also ... saw that you spoke to Finnick Odair last night, my golden boy from Four." He sent her a tight-lipped grin.

Bex paused, unable to form a coherent sentence. Her whole body felt frozen from just his statement. She blinked and laced her hands tighter, the knuckles turning a ghostly white. "Briefly, yes," she finally answered. "He's – well – he's ..."

The President chuckled loudly and set his cup on the table. With a shake of his head, he said, "Best not to get too caught up with him." He studied her for a quick moment and pointed a finger in her direction. "I have my own queries about that boy. But the Capitol is very smitten with him, and I'd hate for you to get caught in the crossfire with his adoring lovers. You are one of _my_ favorites."

She was utterly silent. Bex didn't know what to do or think. How could she respond to something like that? He didn't want her to get caught in Finnick Odair's crossfire, but who's to say she wanted to in the first place? She didn't. She'd rather stay as far away as she could, and had been successful at it for quite some time. Normally, she didn't speak to Finnick at Capitol functions. But Bex couldn't help but wonder ... Why did the President care so much?

"Um –" She shook her head, staring at her hands as Snow stood from his seat. "Adoring lovers –?"

The President placed a veiny hand on her shoulder, and Bex had to fight the urge to recoil away. She looked up at his sadistic smile. How many times did he practice that in the mirror each day? Did he dream about all the kids he sent off to be murdered? Did he count the days, desperately waiting for the next Reaping Day? Did he even _care_ about what his competition and his agreement and his obligations were doing to Victors like her? Did he think about how he had sold her purity to the first available buyer? Could he see the evident trauma in her eyes?

That smile was the only answer she needed.

"Please, come back soon, dear," he beamed softly. "I know Atlas and a few other of my friends would love to make your acquaintance."

Bex couldn't help but shiver.


	5. ANGELO

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER FIVE

#####  **__________________________**

**SHE** was on the train back home first thing in the morning, before even the birds started to sing at sunrise. Bex's mother used to say, "The early bird catches the first worm," and perhaps, her team had taken that into account as well. With only a few hours of sleep, Bex had lugged herself on the train, not planning on sleeping anymore. Dreaming was a fond memory at this point and she'd rather not wake up the conductor with her nightmarish screaming.

Phoenix had taken the liberty of riding the train home with Bex. While the Victor insisted that she was now twenty-three and clearly independent, Phoenix was a worry-wart. He always wanted to make sure she was alright, and in the back of her mind – way past the rough and blunt personality – Bex appreciated it. Iliana stayed back at her home in the Capitol, waiting for Phoenix's swift return.

The train was already zooming towards District Seven as the sun started to rise in the sky. Phoenix was already in his cabin in the back, getting a few more hours of sleep. Bex had promised him that she'd be doing the same thing, but it was a lie. She'd gotten good at that lately. Lying and forgetting was a Victor's second nature. Rubbing at the dark spots underneath her eyes, Bex laid back on the couch in the dining area.

She downed another cup of coffee, hoping it would make the eye bags vanish away. Maybe it was wishful thinking, maybe it was sleep depravity – Bex was doing whatever she could stay awake. She didn't want the nightmares, not when her conversation with Snow was still fresh in her brain, waiting on the brink to taunt her as soon as she closed her eyes. At the very least, the coffee was numbing, running through her veins like good ol' morphling.

Bex was practically buzzing – shaking even – as she reached for the remote to the TV. The television projection booted to life. The first show to come on was Hazel Frand's Gossip Hour, where Caesar Flickerman's right-hand dished all the recent drama in the Capitol. Her specialty was Victors; she _loved_ spreading gossip about her favorites, especially the likes of Finnick and even Cashmere.

And just at the thought of his name, there he was, gracing the holographic projection. Bex groaned and bent her head back onto the couch. But she was curious – so _embarrassingly_ curious – and lifted her head to watch as Hazel rambled on and on about the footage she was broadcasting. It looked like the videographer had taken it while hiding in a bush because there were scattered leaves on the side of the lens. The footage was of Finnick outside the Starmorning hotel, holding the hands of the pink-haired woman Bex saw him with days ago. He was practically shoving his tongue down her throat before she got in a car and blew him a kiss goodbye. The way he kissed her made it look like he was trying to devour her entire face.

Bex wondered if he knew the cameras were there. Was it all intentional? Finnick was known to play the game very well.

_I'd hate for you to get caught in the crossfire with his adoring lovers._

Snow's voice echoing in her head sent a shiver throughout her entire body. Bex pursed her lips, watching the TV as Hazel played the video over and over again. How many lovers did Finnick even have? It was unusual to have reoccurring clients in their agreement with Snow, but maybe ... Finnick _liked_ his clients. Maybe he was attached to them in some metaphorical way that still made him feel whole. Bex could understand that, but it didn't mean she wanted to see her clients more than once. The first encounter was already awkward enough.

But Atlas Pacuri seemed to want to make a comeback.

With a shake of her head, Bex flipped the channel to the Capitol News Network. Another gossip show, this one hosted by Caesar Flickerman himself. He was enthusiastically reporting Katniss and Peeta's love story from the beginning, detailing every moment of it, from the Reaping to now. All these Capitol people were so oblivious; it almost hurt to see. Bex scoffed at the projection and plucked a scone from the table in front of her. Biting into the breakfast treat, Bex took in an old interview with the District Twelve lovers, and how Katniss was so stiff, her empty eyes just about glazing over. Peeta did his best to make up for her horrible acting, tightening his grip on her hand, reminding her to smile more. Katniss tried to blush at his compliments, but it wasn't good enough. It was fine for the people of the Capitol, but for Snow ... Bex wondered if he said something to her after this interview.

_I've been told people don't believe her love story_ , Finnick had purred in her ear, _that she's been inspiring some_ riots _. Would you join her?_

Bex was shaking at that thought, and she hadn't realized that her scone was already gone as her teeth clamped down on her fingers. "Shit," she murmured before running over to the bottle of white wine sitting in a bucket of ice. Her fingers ached, but the pain dulled as Bex took out a few ice cubes and placed them on the mark.

_Uprisings. Riots. Rebellion._

The words held so much power, so much hope, but Bex was terrified to even _think_ about it. Something was shifting in the air ever since Katniss and Peeta won those Games, something so poignant that Bex was doing everything she could to ignore it. She felt her body temperature rise every second she saw Katniss' lifeless smile on the TV. As she sat back down on the couch, her finger wrapped in ice, Bex changed the channel to the weather station.

Rubbing at his eyes, Phoenix staggered from his quarters and into the main dining area. He was still dressed in a suit; probably slept in it. Phoenix poured himself a glass of the white wine – despite the time only just reaching eleven AM – and plopped himself right next to Bex on the couch. After waking himself up, he sighed, taking in the several coffee cups in front of her, and then the hand wrapped in ice.

"What the hell did you do?" He asked, dumbfounded.

"Don't ask," she sighed. "It's embarrassing."

Phoenix looked back at the coffee cups and rubbed at his temples. He stared at the television and muttered, "You didn't sleep, did you?"

Bex was too exhausted to lie. She decided to stay quiet, unwrapping the ice from her fingers once the pain stopped. Phoenix didn't push it. He chose to drink his wine in silence, swirling it in the glass, as the Capitol announcer looked like he had a gun to his head while he spoke about the weather for the week.

_Would you join her?_

Finnick's voice in her ears became too loud to ignore. She bit her lip, sighing at the familiar hum of his voice. That _stupid_ , _egotistical_ , _arrogant son of a_ –

"Phoenix?" She almost didn't recognize her voice as she spoke. It was almost too quiet. Her escort looked over at her as she cleared her throat. "I know Iliana said not to talk about it –"

Phoenix shook his head and turned back to the TV. "Then we shouldn't."

Bex paused. She was treading dangerous waters, but she trusted Phoenix. She trusted him as much as her brother, and that was saying _a lot_. There was something so different about him and he knew her through and through. Bex never expected to feel comfortable around someone of his caliber, someone from _the Capitol_. But she knew him like the back of her hand, and he for her.

And that's why she opened her mouth to finally speak, "What if a real rebellion happens?" Her voice was still soft, but the harshness to it still remained, like a vulture circling the sky before it struck its prey. "It's happened before, who's to say it won't happen again? And what of my agreements with Snow? What would happen to me?"

Phoenix was quiet. Truthfully, Bex didn't expect him to say anything. It wasn't like he _could_ say anything, but he understood. He heard the pain and the exhaustion in her voice; he heard the worry, but there was still nothing he could reply in his situation. Bex just needed to let it out.

Instead, Phoenix reached over and grabbed her hands. He squeezed them, still not turning in her direction, and Bex squeezed back.

He didn't need to speak. That alone told her everything she needed to know. He would stand with her through anything, even from the sidelines, and she sat back with relief.

#####  **__________________________**

Bex had to quickly say goodbye to Phoenix as soon as the train arrived at District Seven. "I have important matters to attend to. Friends to see," he had explained before giving her a wide smile. Bex wrapped her arms around him and hugged him for a bit too long, but Phoenix was gone and heading back to the Capitol in under five minutes. She waved to him in the window as the train sped off, and she was graced with the tranquility of her home once again. Bex inhaled the smell and exhaled her anxieties.

It felt like her visit to the Capitol had never existed. She was free again.

Tugging at the strap of her bag, Bex made her way to the food market. She knew it didn't make up for it, but maybe bringing groceries home would make Keaton not as angry with her about the sudden trip. A brisk wind lifted her hair off her shoulders and the sun was still warm enough for all farmers out that day. As she walked through the stands, watching the people of Seven chat and giggle along with their neighbors, Bex smiled. She smiled because it felt like everything was worth it in the end. Winning, survival ... it was all worth the torture now that she could still walk through the farmers market and see the happiness on people's faces.

She could get all fresh ingredients to make Keaton a beef stew tonight. Maybe even two loaves of bread too. Atlas' payment was practically burning a hole in her pocket, and she wanted to use it on someone who deserved it. Her brother was going to be so excited.

Mrs. Yance at one of the many vegetable stands helped Bex pick out the best carrots, potatoes, and corn. Placing them all in a wicker basket, the woman sent her a delighted expression and took the money, pausing a moment as Bex walked away to notice the symbol on the paper. While most people were paying with coins at the market, Bex Nassar always paid in Capitol money. It was rare for Mrs. Yance to even be holding it, and she quietly slipped it into her pocket to show her family later.

Gathering stock and spices from other stands, Bex checked off that the last thing she needed was, of course, the beef. She wanted a big cut, so she could make a stew to last for days. At the end of the street, situated in the corner, was a new meat stand. It was owned by a family called the Clevvers. Bex spotted the large coolers around the stand, big enough to house a whole cow.

There was no one manning the stand as she approached. With an arched brow, Bex peered over the wooden counter and saw a mop of brown curls hammering the stand in place. "Um – hello –"

The person immediately shot up, like a flower in the spring-time. Caramel eyes met her own, and Bex found herself frozen as she took in the male's sharp cheekbones and pretty smile. She swallowed hard and the man laughed at her silence.

"You're Bex Nassar, right?" He asked, leaning against the stand, which was already shaking enough without his weight on it. "The darling of District Seven."

_More like the axe-murderer of District Seven_ , she thought. _Quite literally._

After a solid ten seconds, Bex cleared her throat and found her voice. She gestured to the drooping sign in front of the stand. "And you must be one of the Clevvers? Are you guys new?"

"New to the farmers market. My family owns a meat shop down by Merchant Lane and wanted to see if we could a profit selling here too." He licked at the corners of his mouth and held out his hand. "I'm Angelo, by the way."

Bex grabbed his hand and shook it. "Is my hand going to smell like meat now?"

He released her hand and smelled his own. "Fresh as a daisy."

She laughed, and it was almost ... flirtatious? Her Capitol giggle was definitely _not_ coming out right now, not in front of a man she just met. Bex felt her mouth get dry when they stared at each other again. Angelo was naturally pretty, as if he was made for the Capitol.

"I saw on the TV that you were at our President's very special party," he said, hauling one cooler on top of another. "Why are you back enlightening us with your presence so soon?"

"I'm not really for the glitz and glamor of the Capitol," she sighed. "I'm actually bringing home an apology present for my brother. I need a large cut of beef for a stew."

Before the words could even leave her mouth, Angelo began pulling out a huge slice of red meat from the cooler. He laughed and turned to face her. "This one okay?"

"Shit," Bex blurted, and Angelo released that cheerful giggle once again. "Yeah, that's great. Thank you."

He placed the slab onto the counter and started to cut it into tinier slices, perfect for a stew. Angelo glanced up at her for a short moment, taking in her black stare, before replying, "My pleasure."

Bex could literally _feel_ her cheeks heating up. It wasn't fake or her not being able to turn off her Capitol persona. No, this felt _real_ and it was coming at her all at once. She had to look away to keep herself from staring at Angelo for far too long. How had they never met before? She would've been glued to an angelic face like that from a mile away.

But nothing could happen. Never, _ever_. Bex wasn't always the most affectionate and she was never good with showcasing her emotions. And after her parents ... she didn't want anyone else getting hurt. Loving someone, getting _close_ to someone – there were consequences for that now, especially in her new life. Bex would be damned if she let the President use someone else against her. She didn't want to lose more people she cared about.

And yet, looking at Angelo right now ... the tug at her heart and blush on her cheeks made her consider breaking her own rules.

"Here you go," Angelo said, and she averted her attention back to him. He handed her all the beef slices in a plastic wrapping and Bex placed it in her basket.

"Thanks," she smiled softly before handing him a few bills.

Angelo waved his hand. "It's on the house."

"No, it's _not_ ," Bex argued, smacking the dollar bills on his counter. She turned on her heel to leave. "Have a nice rest of your day."

He ran a hand through his hair, cheeks becoming the same shade of red. Thankfully, she was already walking away, but Angelo couldn't look elsewhere. After a sigh escaped his lips, he whispered, "See you around, Bex Nassar."


	6. A BEATING HEART

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER SIX

#####  **__________________________**

**KEATON** had never looked happier to see her. Once Bex came staggering through the front door, hauling her basket full of groceries and a bag over her shoulder, Keaton came running out of his room and grinned big. "You're home so soon," he said, taking her bag and basket. Looking down at the food, Keaton nodded and brought her into a hug. "I know what you're planning tonight. But are you sure? You must be exhausted."

"Not really," Bex replied, taking her bag and heading for the stairs. "I don't sleep anymore anyway. It's for the weak."

She was a few steps up the stairs when she realized Keaton was looking at her with concern. Bex sighed and brushed off his worry. "I want to cook tonight," she continued, "for mom and dad."

Keaton agreed, "For mom and dad."

The stew was great, better than Bex expected. She wasn't the best cook, but with her mother's recipes, she thought nothing could go wrong. It felt like her mom was with her and it gave the confidence she needed with her lackluster cooking skills. She wondered if her mom's spirit was really there, guiding her hands, whispering wisdom in her ear, or if that was just a trick of the wind. Nevertheless, Keaton enjoyed the stew, but he loved that she was home even more.

That was the first night they ate at the dining table in a long while. Their parents' chairs remained empty, but Keaton and Bex didn't feel the least bit uncomfortable.

Bex had gotten a tremendous amount of sleep that night, more than she could've ever asked for. She wondered if it had to do with being in her own home, the cold, familiar sheets, or that last night was the first full meal she ate in days. (Bex hated a lot of things about the Capitol, but maybe one of the worst was their lack of eating. Everyone seemed to snack all day and washed it down with the beverages that made you feel less full.) Whatever it was, she woke up extremely refreshed. Her eyes fluttered open to the sound of the birds singing right outside her window. She looked at the frame of her parents on the side table before reverting her eyes to the window above her bed. Sitting up and kneeling before the window, Bex spotted her brother already working by the chopping block and inhaled the fresh air.

This was _home_. Everything was okay again. She could finally breathe.

Bex got ready bright and early, trying to get a head start on the day before her brother could come in and find her awake. She dressed quickly in leggings and a thin zip-up sweatshirt, and then headed downstairs for breakfast. As her toast heated up, Bex watched Johanna lazily water the rose bushes in the front of her house, giving up when she realized she hadn't put enough water in for the bush on the other side of her house. The pixie-haired Victor strode back inside with a disappointed expression.

Bex had been thinking about Johanna all morning. She couldn't stop her words from repeating in her head: _You don't talk to any of us, so_ sorry _if I think it's unexpected._ Bex knew Johanna had a point, but it was difficult for her to make connections. It always had been, even before the Games, and she had been warier after she won because of President Snow's watchful eye. But Johanna was a fellow Victor, a couple years younger than her, and they were home. It was time for Bex to make some changes.

However, extending an olive branch to Johanna had always been difficult. The girl was a tough egg to crack, tougher than Bex. Her shell was solid and less delicate, and her insides were made of pure steel. When Bex had shown up announced around ten-thirty AM, Johanna thought she was playing a prank, so she didn't answer. Bex had to shout her name and bang on the door at least twenty times before Johanna opened up, a toothbrush wedged in her mouth.

"What is so important that you need to interrupt _this_?" She asked, pointing to her toothbrush.

"Nothing important. I'm just ..." Bex laid out her hand for emphasis. "Extending an olive branch."

Johanna arched a trimmed brow. " _A what?_ "

"I'm trying to be nice!" The older girl huffed, unaware her voice was going to come out that loud. Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, Bex asked, "I'm in the mood to make a large fruit salad, but I didn't get any when I went yesterday. So ... I was wondering if you wanted to attend the farmer's market with me today."

Johanna popped the toothbrush from her mouth. A small bit of foam dripped onto the door frame of her house, and Bex cringed slightly. " _You_ want to hang out?"

"That's what I asked, didn't I?"

She sighed dramatically. "Hmm ... I think I need to check my schedule ..."

"You have absolutely _nothing_ going on," Bex interrupted.

"How do _you_ even know that?"

Bex continued to stare at her blankly. She should've just asked Nico to go with her, but it might've been even harder to get him to leave his house. Eventually, Johanna rolled her eyes and said, "Let me finish this and put on better clothes. Meet you outside in five." And then, the door slammed in her face.

The two girls made it to the market by eleven, which was one of the most popular times. People were bustling around in large groups, baskets in hand, while visiting the various stands jam-packed with fresh food. A fair amount of Peacekeepers sauntered through the streets, more than usual, but not enough for anyone to be worried. Even loggers passed by to say hello to the merchants on their lunch breaks. It was fairly warm out today, warm enough that Bex was regretting the sweatshirt she threw on. She had her sleeves rolled up as soon as they started to walk down the street. Bex smiled, though, as the sun hit her face, and she wandered through the market with Johanna by her side.

It was difficult to turn off the Capitol persona while back in Seven, but coming home also made her appreciate her District so much more. From the trees to the people, even the food – Bex had never felt so happy to be back, far away from President Snow and his eyes.

Johanna hadn't really planned on buying anything, but she had been eyeing a fresh loaf of sweet bread long enough for Bex to urge her to buy it. Sweet bread was a custom in Seven, served only on special occasions, but Bex assured her anytime was a special occasion. _Living_ was a special occasion. Johanna had scoffed at the comment, but still walked over to the stand to buy it.

Bex was fairly pleased with the produce she got. She bought a pineapple, a few kiwis, some strawberries, blueberries, and a large sweet melon. All fresh and grown by the vibrant community around her. She smiled and looked down at the fruit in her basket, already tasting the sweetness on her tongue. Maybe she'd invite Johanna to prepare the fruit salad with her. They'd spent the past hour together and only had two arguments. Bex would call that a good record. Johanna could be really enjoyable when she let down that wall, something Bex knew just as well.

Turning back to find Johanna, the crowd dispersed a little and Bex caught sight of a familiar stand at the end of the street. Her mouth went dry as she watched Angelo pack a few chicken cutlets in some plastic and hand it off to an elderly woman. His smile was enigmatic. Bex thought about how the Capitol would just eat up that face – but she stopped herself before she could go any further. She should _not_ be thinking of that hell while back home.

Her lips curled even more at the edges. His pale, olive-toned skin glimmered in the sunlight, and his chocolate eyes appeared even brighter. Bex felt butterflies flutter in her stomach, shooting up, up, and up, until they reached the base of her throat.

"What are you looking at?"

Bex jumped several feet back at the sound of Johanna's voice. The other girl's hands shot up in surrender as the crowd filtered around them, and Bex held a hand to her chest. "Sorry," Johanna muttered, "didn't know you'd be so jumpy."

"I think I have a right to be," Bex huffed before looking back down to make sure she got everything she wanted.

Johanna appeared at her side, following her gaze from a moment before. Slowly, a chuckle rose from her lips, and Johanna sent Bex a lifted brow. "Did you only ask me to come with you so you could have eye sex with the meat guy?"

Bex's mouth flew open. " _Excuse me_?" She blinked incredulously. "For your information, I invited you because I was being _nice._ I'm actually trying to enjoyyour presence, but you're making it pretty hard."

"So that guy over there means nothing to you?" Another challenging eyebrow.

"Nope."

"Then why don't you go over to him and try not to smile?"

Bex snickered in her direction. "Fine. Just to prove you wrong."

There was no way she was going to live this down.

Bex's hands began sweating as she approached Angelo's stand. He was beginning to lug over what looked like a really heavy, steel cooler. His back was to the front of the stand. Bex released a breath she hadn't known she was holding in and knocked her fist against the wobbly, wooden counter. She wondered when he'd finally get this level.

Angelo didn't turn. "Kinda busy here!" He shouted, trying to position the cooler upright.

"Looks like it," Bex remarked, and Angelo's head immediately swung in her direction.

"Holy shit, hey," he breathed all at once, dropping the freezer on the ground. The impact created a loud thump, lough enough to make everyone go silent for a short second, and then resume their activities. Angelo came running over as if the cooler never existed.

Bex looked from him to the cooler. "Aren't you gonna get that?"

"What? Oh, no. Not important." He huffed and ran a hand through his curls. "How's it going, Bex? It seems like you've missed me."

_No smile. Don't smile. No matter how contagious his is._

"I wouldn't get your hopes up," she quipped, rubbing the back of her neck nervously.

"So ..." He tapped his hands against the counter, sending her a genuine grin. It was so pretty and made her want to smile back. "How was the beef stew you made?"

"Great," she nodded, "like _really_ great, thanks to you."

Angelo chuckled and shook his head. "I think you should be taking the credit here," he quipped, leaning against the counter. Bex swallowed hard when their stares connected. "I – um – I also make a pretty good beef stew." Another hand through the hair. "You should try it sometime. I'll cook for you and everything."

And just like that, the ends of her lips pulled upward. Bex knew she was fucked. The butterflies were smashing against the lining of her stomach, begging for release, and her heart practically _thudded_ in her chest. She was smiling bigger than ever before. Glancing over her shoulder, she found Johanna laughing hysterically in the crowd.

But the smile went away quickly. It vanished into thin air as the thought of Angelo strung up on two posts invaded her mind. She imagined him in the heart of the Capitol, in front of all the cameras, as a Peacekeeper ran a whip across his back. Bex hesitantly took a step back and bumped into someone else. She blinked, apologized to the person, and brought herself back to reality.

She swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. That was what happened to people she got close to. They were tortured. They vanished. _They died_ –

"Hey, are you okay?"

Bex blinked again and nodded at Angelo's question. "Um – yeah, I just –" She felt sweat coating her hairline and she wiped it again. "Sorry, I have to go."

And she stalked off, hands forming into fists as she fought the urge to look back at him. Bex needed to get a grip. Her life wasn't designed for personal relationships anymore. Connections weren't a virtue.

Johanna hooked an arm around Bex's neck once she got close and cackled, "I think I won."

#####  **__________________________**

They took longer to walk back to the Victor's Village. The basket of fruit became much heavier as time went on, and Johanna simply laughed as she skipped along with her loaf of sweet bread. Bex didn't really want her help anyway. Her muscles were strong and she learned how to endure long before the Games.

Johanna's stomach grumbled and she lazily tore part of the heel off the sweet bread. While chewing the piece in her mouth, she snickered, "So you _really_ just asked me to go with you to watch you flirt. Can't say I'm surprised."

Bex rolled her eyes. "I _didn't_."

"Hmm," the other girl murmured. "You couldn't have a conversation with the guy without smiling. That says a lot. I'm actually surprised you still have a beating heart." She ate another piece of bread. "Some Victors say that once you get wrapped into Snow's plan, you lose all interest to date. Can't even have an orgasm. Is that true?"

Bex looked at the ground. There was some truth to her statement, but it wasn't that she had lost interest. It was the _fear_ that held her back. The pure, unadulterated fear that someone could vanish like her parents if she got too close.

As for the other part ...

"I'm incredibly uncomfortable with that statement," Bex replied, which just about confirmed Johanna's question. "It doesn't matter. Nothing is going to happen with Angelo. He's just a nice guy."

Johanna scoffed, " _Please_."

They were nearing the gates to the village. The trees swayed and the spring wind picked up. Biting onto her bottom lip, Bex glanced over at Johanna. After a beat of hesitation, she said, "Can I ask you a question?"

Her brow furrowed. "I guess."

"You're pretty friendly with Finnick Odair, right?"

Johanna's lips spread into a knowing grin.

"Can you stop being like _that_?"

"Well, I just thought ... Since we were talking about people you're into –"

Bex seethed, "It's not about that. Just answer the question."

Johanna rolled her dark eyes for the tenth time that hour. "We became friends after I was recruited to mentor with you. He's nice. Personable. No wonder the Capitol adores him."

She hesitated as words threatened to tumble off the edge of her tongue. Bex thought of Finnick's pointed stare, and then that alluring smirk. She wondered how many people he used that on in a day.

"I ... met with Snow my last day in the Capitol," she sighed. Johanna's eyes became frantic and flickered towards her. "He was telling me I shouldn't – I guess – speak to Finnick? Something about 'getting caught in the crossfire of his adoring fans.' That's weird, right?"

Soon enough, Johanna's stare glazed over, and she nodded along with Bex's words. "Snow wants you to keep your eyes on the prize. No distractions. He wants you to pay attention to the Capitol citizens and only them. It's his only way left of controlling you."

"But if what Snow said is true," Bex continued, "everyone must know about Finnick. He's probably the President's most popular offer." She would _never_ just anyone know about her contract with Snow. So why did Finnick?

"Finnick is confident and seemingly the most handsome young Victor at the moment. He's probably getting more clients – even reoccurring clients – by not keeping his offers hidden." Johanna shrugged. "You gotta understand that you both are on the same playing field. Finnick is just more known for his group of ... _fans_. He's not embarrassed about what he needs to do to survive."

_Survival_. That's what it was always about. He was staying in line, allowing Snow to stay in control, just to simply survive. And if that meant most of the Capitol knowing that he sold himself around, or that he reoccurring "lovers," well ... Bex decided she couldn't judge.

Maybe her problem was that she was embarrassed. She never gave off too many hints that she was an object for one night's pleasure while in the Capitol, but it was always enough to wake up to jewelry or cash on her bedside table the next morning. Bex wanted the least amount of people to know, and if that limited her clients, so be it. She was headstrong, but also horribly ashamed of the future she chose for herself. It was all for survival, though. Just like Finnick.

Johanna released a breath and walked forward. "Sometimes I wish I was in your position and agreed to Snow's demands. I would still have my family."


	7. STINK EYE

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER SEVEN

#####  **__________________________**

**A** month had gone by in a blink of an eye. Time always seemed to blur back at Seven. Bex was savoring every moment she had left there, every breath she hesitated to take, and every laugh she wanted to remember.

She spent more time with Johanna, pleased to find out that _sometimes_ the pixie-haired girl could be quite enjoyable. She even visited Nico a few times: once to make sure he was still living, and the second to hand him a meat pie when she noticed he hadn't boughten any groceries for the week. The pie had been big enough to feed a family for a few days, but this would last Nico a week. He hadn't thanked her when he accepted the pie, but Bex had received a letter on her doorstep a week later from Nico, acknowledging her kindness and promising that the debt would be repaid. Bex had walked back over to his manor and told him he had no debt to her: "I don't like debts," she had said. "Don't worry about it."

No one had ever hugged her as tight as Nico Cadoc did that day.

And now, it was Sunday, one of the most popular days to sell at the market. Keaton planned to leave to set up his stand as the birds started to chirp at sunrise. He was always an early riser, wanting a head start before his competition. Bex wanted to help before he left. As the days went on, she learned to wake up earlier, and today was no different. She was dressed before the sun peaked over the horizon and began to haul the wood into the back end of his truck. He didn't even need to ask; she was doing it all by herself. Keaton watched by the window with his coffee in hand and a grin tugging at his lips.

It was when Bex finished stacking all the wood in the truck bed that Keaton came running outside, but that proud smile was replaced with something grimmer. Bex snapped the back closed and turned to her brother. Her lips were spread wide, but once she took in his face, her happiness faded and her brows knitted together. "What's up?" She asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. Keaton looked to his dirty boots. "Hey, hey, is something wrong?"

He huffed and lifted his head. His response was flat: "Your Capitol friends are here."

She blinked incredulously. "What?"

Keaton simply stared back. His shoulders shrugged, but he was anything but casual right now. His eyes were blazing; his face expressionless. He was disappointed, but not in her. At _himself_ , for believing that he could now have all the time in the world to spend with his sister, that her second life in the Capitol was done, that she wasn't an object for these people anymore.

Bex was frozen in place.

"It's only been a month and you're leaving again?" Keaton asked softly.

She bit onto her bottom lip and wrapped her arm around her brother's shoulders. Without saying a word, she walked them both to the house. It almost felt like she was dragging him as they reached the stoop, but once they were inside, sweat sticking to their skin, Bex eyed her team gathered in the kitchen. She leaned against the doorframe as Keaton stood at the door, staring at his feet.

Bex crossed her arms over her chest. "Another unexpected arrival?"

"Oh!" Iliana jumped out of her skin. She had been sifting through the fruit bowl, plucking ripe grapes when no one was looking. Turning on the edge of her ten-inch heel, she sighed, "Trust us, we hardly expected to be here either."

Keaton's grey stare appeared over his sister's shoulder, and his voice was stern when he asked, "So why are you here?"

Phoenix lifted his head from his spot at the counter. "Your presence has been requested in the Capitol."

"By Snow?" Bex asked with an arched brow.

"No," he quipped, a hint of humor in his tone, "by Atlas Pacuri."

Her face twisted. She hadn't thought about him since she left the Capitol, nor did she want to. From what she remembered of her conversation with Snow – she blocked out as much as possible from her memory – the President had mentioned they were good friends. If this was the case, why was Atlas requesting to see her again? It was abnormal for clients to want to meet more than once, and she always liked it that way.

Perhaps, he thought of her as a Finnick Odair-type. She felt bile rise in her throat.

"We haven't seen each other for a _month_ ," she finally replied, "and that was supposed to be the last time. Why now?"

Phoenix shrugged. "I received a call this morning from him, and he made it _very clear_ to me that he's captivated by you. He asked to see you tonight at the Fairwood Restaurant."

Bex knew that he didn't ask. He demanded, and Phoenix, nor her, could refuse it. Not when he was so close to President Snow.

"Do you accept the date request?" Iliana asked, her pale eyebrows raised. "I might have _already_ picked out the most darling dress."

The word, _No_ , hung off the end of her tongue, waiting for release. She was practically itching to say it, to throw it back in this Atlas Pacuri's face. But then, Bex looked at her brother, who nodded in her direction. A silent answer, but one she knew well. She exhaled when she turned back to her team and muttered, "I don't really have a choice in the matter, do I?"

Phoenix took the split second that only Bex's eyes were on him to shake his head. Iliana sent her a sad smile before walking forward and ushering her towards the stairs. "Let's get you washed up and packed before we head to the train."

As Bex ascended the stairs to her bedroom with her team, she looked back at Keaton still hanging by the kitchen. She couldn't stop herself from mouthing the word, _Sorry_.

#####  **__________________________**

The dress Iliana had picked out felt like a second skin. It was a creamy, pale pink, accentuating her tan skin and the small dust of freckles on her shoulders. The fabric was tight in all the right places and the small bow in the middle made her look like she was a present for Atlas to unwrap. She hoped that her assumptions were wrong.

For her face, Iliana had played with glitters. She used all neutral tones: brushing pink-nude glitter across Bex's lid and placing a shimmery coral color in the inner corner. Iliana also scattered that same coral shade across her cheeks, and then topped off her lips in a similar color. She left Bex's hair natural and wild, but still placed a single, white lily behind her ear.

A District Seven native had walked on this train, but when they finally stopped in the Capitol, the Flower Girl emerged in all her glory.

Bex was whisked away to the restaurant before she could even say goodbye to her team. Atlas had a car parked outside the train station for her, which then drove her off to the Fairwood Restaurant, and her team waited on the sidelines with bright smiles. After suffering through twenty minutes' worth of traffic – _and_ anxiety as the restaurant got closer and closer – the car came to a halt outside the Fairwood Restaurant, and her door was opened. She went to tip the driver before he graciously denied her with his hands.

Bex felt her insides twist as she entered the restaurant. If she didn't have such a high level of tolerance, she might've puked on the steps leading to the entrance. But she forced it down, putting on her best smile as she said to the hostess, "I'm here to see Atlas Pacuri."

The hostess beamed in her direction. "I know," she said, gesturing for Bex to follow her. As she was led into the dining room, the hostess whispered over her shoulder, "I must say, it's an honor to meet you. Mr. Pacuri is a lucky man."

_A lucky man?_ Bex thought, brow furrowing. It wasn't like they were dating.

"The woman of the hour."

She heard his voice immediately throughout the room. Atlas stood from the booth situated in the back of the dining hall, hidden from curious eyes. His blue hair was slicked back tonight and his dark roots were showing at the edge of his hairline. He sent her that same sparkling grin, arms spread for her embrace as the hostess stopped before the booth. Swallowing down her nerves, Bex wrapped her arms around his back and gave him the shortest of hugs. Atlas didn't seem to mind, though. His happiness was never-ending as they took their seats at the booth.

Bex had never been to the Fairwood Restaurant before. It must have been new, but even so, business was booming. The prices were outrageous and their location was near almost every popular spot in the Capitol. The food was absolutely delicious, probably some of the best that she had in the Capitol to date, but she wouldn't always trust her opinion. No matter how many years she'd tasted of this good life, Bex would always remember what it felt like to go without food. Everything tasted divine to her. She ate every meal to the last crumb, as if she were still that little girl who went to bed with nothing but an apple in her stomach.

Atlas had managed to almost completely forget the dish that was set in front of him as Bex picked off meat from the chicken leg with her bare hands. However, she did do her best not to mess up her nail polish. He blinked at how animalistic she was being, and after a moment more, he stuttered out, "S – So, um – what are your hobbies?"

"Hobbies?" Bex looked down at her hands, at the meat stuck to her fingers, and tried to casually clean off her hands with a napkin. She swallowed hard. "Well ..."

Atlas' brow shot up.

"I don't know." Her shoulder sunk. "I guess I ..."

As she trailed off, her eyes connected with someone else's across the dining hall. Her stare narrowed, lips formed into a frown. This booth was supposed to be hidden, but _clearly_ not enough, because Finnick Odair wouldn't break his _damn_ stare. She felt like throwing her fork across the room and seeing if it would hit him the eye. Bex had good enough aim to know that it would. But she also had a good amount of restraint, and Atlas was _still here_.

He was staring at her, anxiously waiting for an answer.

"Cutting wood," she finally blurted. "I like to cut wood. For my brother. He has a business in our District."

"You like ... cutting wood?" Atlas repeated with a confused expression.

She released that flirtatious giggle. "You got it."

He let go one of his own, and Bex flickered her eyes back to Finnick. The purple-haired woman in front of him was rambling, hands thrown in the air, while he stared at Bex and placed a piece of cake in his mouth. She sent him a glare, one that would scare a thousand men into submission, but Finnick wasn't them. He simply snickered at her anger.

"Well, for me, I like to –" Atlas cleared his throat. "Are you listening?"

Bex reverted her attention quickly. "Of course," she said, using a fork to now eat her chicken. It would've been so much easier to use her hands. "What do you like to do for fun?"

"I'm actually a big fan of gardening. Sometimes, I dream of becoming a stylist too." He sighed dreamily. "I also like spending time with you."

But Bex didn't return the sentiment. She was attempting to practically burn Finnick away with her eyes, and he continued to chuckle at her and her _only_. Her fury only provoked him more. Now she was _really_ curious to see what would happen if she threw her fork –

"Is everything alright, Bex?"

She glanced back at Atlas, feigning innocence, and wiped the edge of her mouth, careful of her lipstick. "Yes, I just –" She breathed heavily into the napkin and set it on the table. "I think I need to go to the bathroom. Will you excuse me?"

Atlas gestured in approval, although Bex would argue that she didn't need it to piss. She sent him a sweet smile before stomping her way to the bathroom, making sure to send Finnick a final scowl as she exited the dining area. He bit his bottom lip to stop himself from outwardly laughing in front of his date.

Once inside the bathroom, Bex took in a few deep breaths. She then turned on the faucet and let water run over her hands. She cupped the water, splashed it on her face, and looked at herself in the mirror. Droplets slipped down her face, threatening to ruin her makeup, but Iliana had sealed it completely.

Bex didn't recognize herself, what her life had become. This is what being a Victor was like. No one ever won the Games. She certainly did not. Now, she covered in pink and glitter and looked like a doll. Just the thought made her want to cry, but she had been bottling her sadness for so many years that she forgot how to let it out.

"Get a grip," she told herself in the mirror, sucking up all the courage she had left. Bex picked up a paper towel on the sink and dabbed her face. "You can do this."

She could. She _had_ to.

Bex huffed a ragged breath and exited the bathroom, but not before she was greeted with that familiar, sun-kissed face for the tenth time that night.

"Fancy meeting you here," Finnick chuckled, trying to push past her.

The hall between the two bathrooms was thin. Her chest was basically pressed up against Finnick's as she tried to move past him.

Rolling her eyes, she replied, "You're in _my way_."

"You _really_ have to stop giving me the stink eye while I try to focus on my date," he replied, completely ignoring her statement. Bex scowled. "Careful. Your face could get stuck that way."

"Oh, _no_ ," she sneered, "what I should stop doing is talking with _you_."

Finnick snorted, "I'm probably a lot more interesting than that loon sitting across from you."

Bex looked around, craning her neck across the room to make sure no one was watching. When she realized the coast was clear, her hand latched onto Finnick's bicep, and he whistled as she dragged him into the women's bathroom. He was thrown against the lip of the sink and she began to check under every stall, making sure they were empty. "If you wanted to get me alone, Miss Nassar," he sniggered, "all you had to do was ask."

"Can you just _shut up_ for once?" She whispered viciously.

"What are you so worried about? It's not like anyone can hear us in here."

"You really don't get it, Finnick." Bex snapped and approached him at the sink. His long lashes batted her way. "I spoke with Snow recently."

He raised a trimmed brow. "Funny, as did I. He told you that he doesn't want us speaking too?"

"Of course, he did! We're his two most valuable assets in his agreement. He doesn't want us to get distracted by each other," she exhaled, "and _you_ best listen to him or – I don't know what could happen."

Finnick laughed.

"What?" Her eyebrows furrowed. "What's so funny?"

"Are you distracted by me, Bex Nassar?"

She scoffed. "You're so _nauseating_!"

"You say, _nauseating_. Others say, _delightful_ , _charming_ , _handsome_ –"

Bex shook her head and headed for the door, fighting the urge to look back at him, to take in those sea-green irises once more. She managed to make it back to her table in one piece, and smiled at Atlas as an apology. But she couldn't stop feeling that tug of regret. For what, she didn't know.

#####  **__________________________**

The moon was high in the sky as Atlas and Bex exited the restaurant. A chill ran through the air and the stars sparkled, almost like his eyes. A car waited on the side of the street, and Bex wondered if it was to take them home together. She hesitated and didn't speak, waiting for him to answer, and batted her eyelashes – a crucial part of her training.

After a moment of indecision, Atlas leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. This was one thing she was always appreciative of him: his gentleness, the softness of his touches. He was never aggressive with her, like most clients, and she didn't need to yell at him to calm down. His kiss even made a slight blush creep up her cheeks. But at this point in her life, Bex never knew if it was for real or just for show.

With Bex's fingers interlocked with his, Atlas also used this moment to slide a wad in her pocket, which meant their night together was ending. He thought she wouldn't notice, and she _almost_ didn't, if it weren't for the heaviness of the money he was slipping into the inside pocket of her jacket. She pretended not to see it. Or feel the weight of it in not just her pocket, but her own conscious as well. Bex continued to smile sweetly at him.

"I had a fantastic night with you, Atlas. Thank you for wanting to see me again," she said as nice as she could.

"No, thank _you_ for accepting my invitation," he retorted, as if she actually had a choice in the first place. "I have a proposition for you, Miss Nassar."

Atlas laced her other hand with his and she continued that flirtatious smile, like he was the only man she wanted in life. Clients absolutely loved it.

"The President is having a party tomorrow. All his closest friends are invited. It's going to be so much fun – lots of food, dancing, socializing. I heard even this year's new Gamemaker will be in attendance!" He grinned big. "I was hoping you would attend with me tomorrow night."

Bex's eye twitched. That sounded like the _last_ thing she wanted to do. It was another demand, not a request. Her blood boiled at the thought of _another_ party, and yet _another_ night with Atlas Pacuri. But she tried to keep her face still, consistent with the act.

It felt like her lungs were going to give out when she replied, "Yes."

This act was going to kill her.


	8. NERVOUS

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER EIGHT

#####  **__________________________**

**BEX** found her team waiting with magazines covering their faces in the lobby of the Starmorning hotel. They had, thankfully, booked her a room earlier in the day, anticipating how tonight's date would go. "I just _knew_ Mr. Pacuri would invite you to the party tomorrow night!" Iliana had exclaimed once Bex revealed the news. "It's totally _exclusive_. I'm so proud of you!"

_At least, that makes one of us_ , Bex was tempted to say, but held her tongue.

Iliana, it seemed, was more excited about Bex's prospects with Atlas than anyone else. Bex had a feeling Phoenix didn't like him. Her escort tended to roll his eyes whenever Atlas was mentioned and he thought no one was looking, but Bex saw. She couldn't ignore it even if she tried. Bex, however, was definitely the most upset about her blossoming relationship with the Capitol suitor. For one thing, she didn't want a relationship to begin with and expected their night together to be a one-time-thing, per usual. She didn't need anything more with him and found Atlas to be rather boring. They didn't fit right.

But Bex's newest client was also a close friend of President Snow, which made him completely and woefully _untouchable_. There was no way for her to get out of this one.

Iliana knew exactly what she wanted her Victor to wear tonight. "I've been saving this for a special occasion," she stated, revealing a dress bag she had hidden behind her back, "and I think this might be _the_ night." It was a strapless dress, curving over her chest in a way that was hardly revealing, one side of the shimmering, gold bodice coming up to her collarbone and flaring out like several flower petals. The top was pinned tightly to her waist and connected to one part of the skirt, which was also flared like petals. The second layer of the skirt came to her knees in a dark green, velvet fabric. Bex had to admit that it was beautiful and probably one of the first outfits she was excited to wear.

She was playing with her eyelashes almost the entire ride to Snow's mansion, where she was to meet Atlas at the gates. It took both Phoenix and Iliana to help her inside the car, due to the dress squeezing her waist in so tightly that she could hardly bend. The lashes, however, were a different story. She could feel them every time she blinked. There were small feathers on the last few lashes that brushed against the gold glitter on her lids. Her hair was fashioned into a high ponytail with small braids woven into the sides of her head. Iliana also made sure to wrap a band of small white roses around the base of the ponytail to keep with Bex's image.

Sensing her nerves as they pulled up to the mansion, Phoenix, who agreed to accompany her tonight, patted her leg. "It'll be alright, kid."

Bex nodded, but didn't reply.

As soon as her car door opened, she was swarmed by bright lights and cameras so close that they could see up her nose. Security pushed the photographers out of the way and Phoenix did her best to cover Bex. She knew that there would still be horrible photos taken of her, plastered who-knows-where for everyone to see. "Where is Atlas?" Phoenix scoffed as they entered the gardens. "He could've warned us."

While Bex was feeling just as annoyed as her escort, she couldn't show it. She was in the enemy's territory now and everyone's eyes were on _her_. It was time to put on the mask. Her lips twitched at the edges as she pulled them into a fake smile and walked into the crowd.

For a party that was supposed to be only President Snow's closest friends, this place was _packed_. Even more than his granddaughter's birthday. It took her at least ten minutes to meander through all the people and find Atlas at the bar, talking to a group of Capitol businessmen. Bex spun around to face Phoenix and put her hands on his shoulders. "I got this," she assured him, but wasn't sure if those words were really meant for herself. "If we don't find each other again tonight, I'll meet you back at the hotel. Promise."

Phoenix smiled – a genuine smile she only saw on his face once or twice. He lifted a pierced brow. "Make me proud, Flower Girl."

She nodded quickly, plucking a glass of sparkling champagne from a waiter's tray as he passed by. Bex downed the whole glass, knowing there would be repercussions for it later. (She hoped the food table was ready for her wrath.) Releasing a loud exhale, Bex sent Phoenix a curt nod and headed over to Atlas.

"Ah, there she is!"

Atlas was already gesturing in her direction as she walked over, and all the businessmen began to ogle her up and down. Bex flashed him a pretty grin as she appeared at his side. Atlas latched an arm around her and his mouth _reeked_ of alcohol when he spoke, "Lads, you all know Bex Nassar, right? Victor of the 67th Hunger Games?"

"Our very own Flower Girl," one of the men sneered, a cigar dangling from his blue-painted lips. Bex could tell his green hair was an obvious wig. "Course we know her, Atlas. She's quite a stunner."

"That she is," Atlas hiccupped, gazing down at her.

With her best fake smile, Bex whispered through gritted teeth, "Why didn't you meet me outside like you said? Are you half in the bag?"

"It's a party!" He chuckled drunkenly and looked to his friends. "Right, boys? We're here to have fun tonight for our friend, Coriolanus!"

The group of men raised their glass of champagne in approval. Bex's mouth hung open for a second, but she closed it before one of the men could make a rude comment. Atlas looked down at her and grabbed her chin with his free hand. Even while intoxicated, he still pressed the gentlest of kisses to her forehead, and then leaned back with glazed eyes.

"We should go dance," he mused.

Bex raised a brow. "I _don't_ think that's –"

But then, he was twirling her, and Bex could've sworn she felt puke rising in her throat. Atlas led her to the dance floor in the center of the gardens, right in front of the live orchestra band, and brought her tightly into his arms. He did his best to sway with her on wobbly legs, and Bex mainly had to hold him upright. Some people were looking at them with judgment. This was going to be the worst night of her life. She couldn't believe she had to be subjected to this embarrassment.

Her eyes slid to the right, and in the far off distance, Bex saw the President clinking his glass with another man. Their stares connected, and he sent her his usual smile, the one that never reached his eyes. Bex felt a shiver course through her. She didn't have enough strength to smile back, curling herself further into Atlas' arms.

After twenty minutes, it seemed her date had no intention of stopping. They were by-far the slowest couple on the dancefloor. The rest of the pairs danced around, holding each other classily, and staring at Bex and her date with a mix of confusion and pity. Bex supposed that if she were in their position, she would've done the same thing. She wondered when they were going to stop dancing so she could eat. The champagne was finally setting in and her stomach threatened to groan.

Atlas cooed in her ear as the band slowed down the music. Bex lifted her head and opened her mouth to ask him if he wanted to walk away, but someone else spoke before her. It was a familiar voice, one she had never been glad to hear until this very moment.

"Can I cut in there, Mr. Pacuri?"

Bex looked up. Sea-green met her black. Finnick stood on her right in another one of his low-cut puffy shirts and a pair of skin-tight brown pants that glistened with gold in certain lighting. He held a hand out, waiting for Atlas to depart. Bex looked to her date and paused for him to move. Atlas was too disoriented to argue, and after throwing Bex a drunken sneer, he stumbled off the dance floor.

Bex looked over her shoulder and saw Snow walking off with a group of people, laughing while tipping his head back to guzzle more wine. She averted her eyes before he could see her, and turned back to Finnick. He raised a brow and waited for her to make the first move. Releasing a huff, Bex took his hand in her own and pulled him close. He placed his free hand on the small of her back, just about grazing her butt, and she hung her other arm across his neck. Her finger skimmed the back of his neck without knowing, and she was pretty sure she felt the hairs there stand up.

With their chests this close, she was pretty sure she could feel his heartbeat. Bex swallowed hard.

"How's your night going?" Finnick asked in her ear. She almost jolted at the sound. "You don't look too happy."

"My date's drunk –"

He snickered, "I can see that."

She sent him a glare. "– And I'm _here_. I'd rather be anywhere other than this place."

"I'd rather be back home," he whispered, and she could feel the smile tugging at his mouth, "and on the beach. Hearing the waves. Smelling the ocean."

Bex had never been near an ocean before. Sure, she'd seen the few lakes running through Seven, but never an _ocean_. She never smelled the salt running off the ocean, never felt the rush of violet waves on her bare feet. The way Finnick was describing it right now ... she hoped maybe she'd visit Four someday and see it for herself.

She found herself unintentionally pulling him closer.

And then, her eyes were skimming the crowd. Her anxiety spiked when she realized she lost Snow's whereabouts. He was nowhere in the crowd. Where was that sick, son of a bitch –

"Why are you even dancing with me?" She snapped, meeting his gentle eyes. "Snow is watching somewhere. Have you completely forgotten everything I said last night?"

"Well, for one thing, I completely saved you from more embarrassment with your date," he quipped, and she rolled her eyes. "And two: do you _really_ think I care what he does to me now? He can't hurt me anymore than he already has."

Bex wished she could be that carefree, that _willing_. She was jealous that he had nothing left to lose.

His eyes softened, and he looked away quickly, careful not to show more emotion. He could practically _feel_ his lovers burning holes in his back, wherever they were in this crowd. "I just ..." Finnick sighed. "I had to come over and apologize for how I've been lately."

Her brow knitted together. "What does that mean?"

Finnick paused, weighing his next set of words. "It _means_... you make me nervous, I think. I tend to ramble when that happens. Or act like an ass. I'm pretty sure I've done both to you recently."

Bex's expression went blank, but she couldn't stop herself from swallowing down her nerves. He spoke calmly, rationally, but his words held so much meaning. Her heart was thumping hard against her ribcage, as fast as a rabbit running from a hunter. She could hardly breathe.

_You make me nervous._

For the first time, Finnick Odair also made _her_ nervous. Nervous for context, for what the future held. The kind of nerves she got around Angelo, but even more powerful, if that was possible. Bex didn't utter a word, afraid to know _why_ , even as the word hung off the end of her tongue.

Finally, Bex snorted, "I've been known to have that effect on people." She hoped that would cover her moment of silence.

It did. Finnick's lips spread into a grin and his eyes sparkled in the colorful lights around them. "It's a good kind of nervous," he promised, hands tightening around her own.

Before her heart could implode in her chest, a man approached them in the center of the dancefloor. Bex's brows furrowed with confusion. He was wearing a long, black coat with a purple dress shirt and pants underneath. His ascot was turquoise and made of sequins that glowed in the strobe lights. He smiled at Bex, and it was the first smile she'd seen from an older man in the Capitol where it _did_ reach his eyes. And his stare was kind, like Finnick's.

Her conscious groaned, _A guy tells you once that he makes you nervous, and suddenly you starting thinking –_

The man cut off her train of thought as he stopped right in front of them, hands laced behind his back. "Do you mind?" He asked Finnick.

Finnick glanced at Bex before stepping away from her, and she found herself actually missing his warmth. He looked slightly annoyed as he gestured to the older man. "Of course, Mr. Heavensbee," he replied, but not before winking towards her. "I'll speak to you later, Bex Nassar."

Her cheeks must've been tinged red with embarrassment.

Bex's eyes flickered to the man before her, and she hesitantly took his hands into her own as the band began to play a waltz. She had absolutely no idea how to perform that dance and this man – Mr. Heavensbee – could clearly tell. They stepped around the music together, presenting their own lazier version of the waltz. Bex felt her hands get sweaty the closer she got to him, and she silently wondered what his relationship was to Snow.

"Sorry I haven't introduced myself sooner," he spoke finally. His tone was deep and low, reminding her almost of her father's. " My name is Plutarch Heavensbee. I'll be Head Gamemaker this year."

So _that's_ how he knew Snow. These two were probably as close as can be since last year's Head Gamemaker mysteriously disappeared. That seemed to be a popular theme with President Snow.

"How nice for you," Bex replied through gritted teeth.

Plutarch laughed at her cynicism. "You've been to a lot of these parties, I assume? You looked kind of bored."

She released a fake chuckle. "And here I was thinking that I perfected my smiles."

"Of course, you have. You're the Capitol's Flower Girl. But all these people here are too stupid to think anything otherwise."

Bex tilted her head to the side, studying Plutarch as he snickered. Her lips stayed in a tight line, but her mind was swimming. Noticing her confusion, the Gamemaker continued casually, "I'm only here to survey the crowd, see what they want."

The music picked up speed, but Bex and Plutarch swayed as if it didn't exist. His hand stayed put on the center of her back and he watched her with the hint of a smile. Bex wasn't sure if his words were meant to comfort or perplex her even more.

"Gamemakers don't usually take criticism from the public," she muttered.

Plutarch laughed, looking off at the dancing crowd. "I'm not your normal Head Gamemaker. The rest have decided to ... stop breathing. I refuse."

Bex swallowed. She remembered when the news came out about last year's Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane. He had vanished without a trace. Some said he escaped to District Thirteen, wanting to find the ruins of what once was. Iliana, however, had a different theory. Bex had heard her whispering to her team that she believed Seneca was punished after allowing two Victors to win. "I don't know how," she said, "but he couldn't have just disappeared. That man was _murdered_."

Plutarch's answering smirk said all she needed to know. Iliana had been right.

Bex cleared her throat to make up for her lack of words, and finally quipped, "You don't sound you like it here very much. But you're passionate about the Games." It came out harsh, more like a statement than a question.

Couples twirled around them like they were dancing on air, but Bex was fixated on the Gamemaker before her. The music was drowned out by the pounding in her ears. It was only her and him, dancing slow and sluggishly, but something about it was so deadly.

Plutarch shrugged at her reply.

"The Games don't mean shit," she muttered, and it was the first time she finally talked like _Bex Nassar_ rather than _the Flower Girl_ in the Capitol. The tone was a surprise even to her. "They were created to keep us in line – to punish us for rebelling."

"I want them to mean something again," he said, just loud enough for her to hear. "I've been inspired."

The song came to a sudden halt. The band stood and bowed while the couples around them applauded. Plutarch released his hands from hers and clapped along with the crowd, eyeing her to do the same. But Bex was stunned. She could hardly do anything but narrow her gaze.

At the last second, she raised her hands and clapped, leaning towards Plutarch to ask, "By _what_?"

"Many things." He didn't face her again. "But that Girl on Fire has surely sent out a spark."


	9. FEELING HUMAN

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER NINE

#####  **__________________________**

**ATLAS** was incoherently drunk within the next hour. He was now sleeping in the middle of the party, slumped against the table where his friends sat. The group of Capitol elite had begun to draw on his face as he snored away. Photographers snuck in and jumped at the chance to capture Atlas Pacuri in his current state.

Bex, on the other hand, was left alone to her own devices. After abandoning Atlas, she loaded up a plate with scones and finger sandwiches and found the first empty table. It was situated in the way back of the party, so not many could find her. She watched the photographers swarm Atlas, and then found Phoenix chatting with a group of friends. As she stuffed her face with small tuna sandwiches, Bex realized that this was the first time during her whole trip that she was alone with her thoughts. Even with the rowdy guests and the band playing as loud as they could, Bex felt at peace. Sleep hadn't even given her this kind of comfort. She could finally _think_.

_You make me nervous._

Bex rolled her eyes. _Gods be damned_. The only time she's had a moment to herself and the first thing she thinks of is _fucking_ Finnick Odair.

What kind of game was he playing here? He couldn't have _really_ meant his words in any kind of ... flirtatious connotation. Bex wasn't one of his clients and it didn't seem right. She scoffed outwardly at the thought.

And then, her thoughts drifted to Plutarch. Now _that_ was someone playing a more serious game. As Head Gamemaker, she expected as such, but his tone was just as confusing as Finnick's. Except on a much scarier level. He wanted the Games to _mean something_ , but _what_ exactly did that entail? An arena with greater stakes? Raising the age requirement for tributes?

Her train of thought was interrupted when she noticed someone at her side. Bex looked into the beady eyes of an Avox and saw the fear, anguish, and grief in just a short second. The Avox's lips were in a steady line as they handed Bex a small note from their silver tray. She took the note in when they set it down in front of her and murmured, "Thank you."

They weren't used to be acknowledged, it seemed, because the Avox walked away before they could hear her.

The note was folded in two. Bex carefully opened the flimsy paper and took in the fancy handwriting. She blinked, wondering if she recognized it. This didn't look like any of her past clients', but how was she to _really_ remember a person's handwriting. It wasn't Phoenix's either. She was studying the writing for so long that she almost forgot to read the actual letter.

_Want to head out of here?_   
_– F_

Bex's brow furrowed. She stood from her chair, crumpling the paper in her hand, and peered through the crowd. It didn't take long to find the culprit at his table full of Capitol women, wiggling his fingers at her. Bex's teeth grit. He was so lucky he didn't write his name on this note. How could he be so oblivious with the consequences of them talking?

She gestured for him to come over, to talk within the shadows of her table. After pressing a soft kiss to one woman's cheek, he strode over to the back of the party.

"You want to go?" Finnick asked, one brow quirked upward.

Her jaw clenched and she began pounding her fists on his chest. "Do you realize how dangerous it is to give me this?! What if Snow finds out you wrote this and sees us leaving together?"

"So you _do_ want to leave."

Bex's eyes went wide.

Finnick only chuckled. "Okay, Bex, who's gonna tell him I wrote the note? The Avox?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and muttered, "Fair point."

"I also told them to cover for me if they see me leave, tell the other Avoxes and waiters that I left the party early because of a headache." He smirked proudly at his idea.

Bex tilted her head to the side. "Why do you want to leave early? This should be a big night for you – client-wise, that is."

"I don't need the interaction tonight. I do get pretty tired of it, you know." Finnick glanced over his shoulder, finding Atlas snoring away at his table, cheek sinking against the glass. "I also thought you might want to get away from your drunk date."

Bex followed his stare and sighed heavily. She had an inkling on how tonight was going to end: Atlas sloppily hailing a car back to her hotel and then him _trying_ to have his way with her before falling asleep again from all the alcohol in his system. But ... maybe this was a better idea. He had already paid her last night, and it would definitely last her throughout next week for groceries. She was willing to do anything to save herself from this embarrassment.

She faced him sharply. "Meet me outside at the gates in five minutes. I'll take care of Atlas and my escort."

He sneered, "You got it, Flower Girl."

Finnick disappeared before she could reply. Bex quickly ran off and found the same Avox that had approached her earlier. The person seemed shocked to see her again and held their tray up in defense. Bex didn't want to scare them any further, so she asked in her sweetest voice possible, "Can you please get me two sheets of paper and a pen?"

When they realized she had no ill intentions, the Avox set off and returned minutes later, paper and pen waiting on their tray. Bex smiled at them and wrote out two short notes. The first one was for Atlas, and she detailed that she was feeling ill so she left the party early. The second one was to go to Phoenix, and it just about said the same thing, but Bex made sure to add at the end, _Don't worry. I'll see you tomorrow morning_. After folding both of them in half, she instructed the Avox where to place them and they nodded curtly.

Slowly, their beady eyes slid to the direction of the gates, where Finnick's shadow could be seen in front of the bushes. They turned back to Bex, mouth sealed shut. "Thank you," Bex whispered, "for all that you do."

The Avox's stare went soft and they bowed their head. Bex smiled before running towards the gates, and then slipped past the active crowd. Everyone seemed too drunk to notice her leaving, even Snow, as he leaned against the bar with a fifth glass of champagne in his hand. The band played even louder.

She found Finnick on the side of the gates, hailing a car over to the side of the road. Luckily for them, all the outdoor photographers had left hours ago, and the only people outside were a drunk Capitol couple fornicating in the bushes. Bex's upper lip curled in disgust as Finnick hauled her inside the blacked-out vehicle before anyone could see them leaving together. He jumped in quickly after and told the driver they were going to the Starmorning hotel.

The car ride was completely silent. Granted, it was only ten minutes, but the silence was somewhat ... comforting. Bex felt like she could finally feel relief. She released a breath of air she hadn't known she was holding in and leaned back against the seat. Finnick watched her with a hint of a smile, but when she looked over, he turned away.

The driver wouldn't accept payment from Finnick once he pulled up to the hotel. "For you, I'd do _anything_ ," he said gratefully, and Finnick didn't push him on the subject. The two thanked their driver before slipping out of the car and heading into the hotel. Finnick entered first, and Bex followed behind after a few minutes, careful of any wandering eyes. They met at the elevator, where they both tried to look inconspicuous and bored, but it was funnier than they imagined. Bex did her best to stop herself from laughing as Finnick pretended not to see her.

He was staying on the last floor in the hotel – _the penthouse_ – while Bex was a few floors below. She stared in awe at the suite as he held the door open for her. In all her years, she had _never_ stayed in a penthouse. No matter how popular she had become. _Never ever_. Bex wasn't one to care about fancy things either, but _this_... this was incredible.

"You've never been in a penthouse before?" He asked, slipping off his shoes and heading for the bedroom.

She snorted, "No, never. This is amazing. Did the hotel just ... _give_ this to you?"

"I asked nicely," he said with a shrug.

Bex was baffled at the reply. She turned to face him again and saw him in the doorframe of the bedroom, tugging off his shirt. Immediately, she spun on her heel and covered her eyes. "Woah, okay," she blurted. "Um ..."

"Don't act like _you_ haven't seen a guy without a shirt, Bex Nassar," he chuckled.

And he was right. The urge to remove her hands was far too tempting –

"I just didn't expect you to get _naked_ ," she scoffed.

"The outfit was too tight and I wanted to be comfortable," he replied defensively.

Bex slowly removed her hands, but kept her back turned. As she heard him changing just fifty feet behind, she became almost too focused on the drink cart situated next to the door. Glass bottles filled with different color liquids were placed along the cart, as well as fancy glasses. Bex took a small glass and picked the bottle filled with orange-gold liquor, knowing instantly that it was brandy.

"Alright, ready," he said as she took a long sip of the liquor. Bex turned and swallowed hard at Finnick's gleaming smile. "You already helping yourself to refreshments?"

She shrugged, but her insides were beginning to form in knots – for reasons she didn't know of. Finnick wore a loose, white V-neck, revealing just a hint of the freckles that dotted his chest, and a pair of striped pants that hung low on his hips. Bex almost spat the brandy back into her cup as she studied him. No wonder why he's why the Capitol Golden Boy. He was built like a _god_.

Eventually, she claimed, "You look like you're ready for bed."

"Well, I am kind of tired," Finnick laughed as she sucked down the rest of her drink, wiping the excess off her mouth. He leaned coolly against the door frame. "Do you want to spend the night here? You look quite tired yourself."

Were there evident bags under her eyes? Finnick just outright confirmed it. Setting her glass on the cart, Bex sauntered across the penthouse floor, heels clicking hard against the wooden surface. She gazed over his shoulder and noticed the exquisite decoration in the bedroom, as well as the large bed set in the middle. Gradually, she met his eyes again.

"That doesn't sound like a good idea," she confessed. "We can't have people finding us, seeing us. Well, I know that _I_ can't have that."

"I won't let any of that happen to you."

His tone was softer, gentler, like Atlas' kisses. Bex felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, and her eyes averted back to his. He was staring at her with sincerity. Nobody looked at her like that except for her family. Nobody _cared_ about her like that except for her brother.

His voice was suddenly an echo in her mind: _You make me nervous._

Bex cleared her throat, looking to her feet. Finnick exhaled and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Look," he muttered, "I just figured you got night terrors like me. I always seem to sleep better with someone else in the room."

Her brows crossed. "I'm not like one of your clients, and you're not one of mine. I don't want to –" She stopped herself and rubbed under her eyes. "I would just sleep here for the night, okay?"

"I wasn't asking if you wanted to have sex, Bex," he quipped, hands shooting in the air. She swallowed hard at his answer, but didn't recoil away. "Is that ..." He paused. "Is that what you think of me?"

She needed to think before she opened her mouth again. Finnick's expression twisted and he crossed his arms over his chest, revealing the small shark tooth necklace underneath the collar of his shirt.

"I didn't mean it like that," she finally replied. "It's just ... that's what these parties are for. This is my debt to Snow and the Capitol citizens. I assumed you dealt with clients the same way. You know, um ... selling yourself." Her hands fell to her sides, and she smoothed out the creases in her skirt. "And despite my hatred for it ... C'mon, even you know that the Capitol can't pay for _everything_. The clients help with the ... essentials."

Finnick shook his head. "I haven't dealt in anything as common as money in years. I'm fine on my own. As far as these parties go, I tell myself that I'm here to provide company. I guess, in a way I'm ... 'selling myself,' but I'm never paid by my clients. Or as some might call them," he smirked, "my ' _lovers_.'"

He was never _paid_? That didn't make any sense. He must've been getting something else in return, but _what_ exactly? Bex opened her mouth, but she could hardly form the words. Finnick clapped his hands before she could question him further and asked, "So how about that sleep?"

She blinked and wiped the sleep from the inner corners of her eyes. Bex was tired. It was probably best not to get into the nitty-gritty of his agreement with Snow, and besides, it was _his_ business and not hers. Getting on her tiptoes, Bex looked over his broad shoulder again and huffed, "We should just sleep in the same bed. Not even mine looks that nice and I want to say I've slept in a penthouse."

He giggled. His sun-kissed skin flushed for the shortest second. "And I thought you didn't like me."

Bex sent him a glare before sprinting into the bedroom and flopping onto the mattress. It was rather uncomfortable that she still had on her tight dress and heels, but the memory foam was all too surreal. She could just about fall asleep right now, even with the lashes on. Finnick offered her some of his clothes to wear, and despite how tempting it was, Bex declined. Leaving with those on might look more suspicious and that was the last thing she needed. This wasn't even suspicious in the first place, but photographers and gossip channels ... they could spin this to look like however they please. She wasn't about to be a headline news story with Finnick Odair.

After kicking off her heels, Bex pushed herself further on the bed and laid her head on the pillow. It felt like she was falling asleep on a cloud. She grabbed the small blanket at the foot of the bed and tried curling her legs under, but the tight dress made it even more difficult. Finnick crossed the room, running a hand through his hair and sliding under the comforter. It might've looked odd if someone were to find them: Bex laying on top of the sheets while Finnick slept underneath.

They were quiet for a few minutes, both trying to fall asleep to the sound of each other's breathing, but even with the imminent fatigue that would soon wash over her, Bex found a million questions lingering on her tongue. Her back was to him, and then she flipped herself over onto her spine. She stared up at the ceiling and saw a large mirror. With an arched brow, she muttered, "Are you kidding –"

Finnick snickered, "I know." He was laying on his back too, staring at their reflection in the mirror.

More silence. Bex didn't want to think about how her makeup would look after sleeping with it on. She still managed to pluck off the lashes, though, and it felt like a weight lifted off her eyes. "Can I ask you a question?" She said, setting the fake lashes on the side table.

He placed a hand beneath his head, and Bex tried to not stare at his muscles flexing in the mirror. "Yeah, sure."

She glanced to him at the other end of the bed. "Have you ever dated one of your 'adoring fans?'"

"No," he replied quickly before she could finish her question. And then, he murmured, "Well, I've tried – _for them_ – but it ... things like that don't work out for us. I used to think if I dated one of my clients that their love would almost ... make me love _them_ , but it didn't. Obviously. It's always a one-sided kind of love."

Bex nodded. "That's what I thought. I think Atlas is trying to date me, but ... it's not real. I've never dated anyone for real before. But I know this is not how it's supposed to be." She sighed longingly. "I think I want to date someday, and it's been offered to me by someone I like ... but I don't know."

One side of Finnick's lips curled. His eyes flickered to Bex's. "Does someone have a crush?"

His sea-green irises melted into her dark brown ones. Bex began to imagine Angelo as if he was really in the room. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "This sounds so stupid to talk about," she scoffed, tugging the blanket higher on her bare shoulders. "There's this guy in Seven. He works at a meat stand and he asked if I would have dinner with him." She paused. "I declined. It's so easy for us to lose the people we love. And I don't know when I'll ever be ready, and what if he's trying to use me–"

"We regret all the chances we don't take." Finnick frowned. "I learned that the hard way."

She met his eyes in the mirror. "With who?"

He hesitated, awkwardly sinking underneath the covers. "There was this girl I mentored named Annie. She won the Games before Johanna. I ... I really liked her. But this agreement –" He shook his head. "It really fucks with any relationship we ever want to have. At least, it does with me."

Bex went silent.

"Take your guy, Atlas, for example," Finnick continued. "He's a client, still part of your agreement with Snow. If he thinks a real relationship is going to come out of it, he's out of his mind. He's buddies with the President, so he _should_ know that."

"I think he does," she assumed, "but because he's so close with Snow, he can disregard whatever he wants."

Finnick was the silent one this time. Bex swallowed hard and rubbed at her nose. As she watched their reflections in the mirror, she thought about Atlas' first words to her – how he _really saw_ her – and she understood now. Finnick's eyes were empty in the mirror; she could see the worry and isolation and trauma in them, just like her own. His mask had fallen off, and she _really saw_ him. He was no longer the charismatic Capitol pretty boy, but a scared Victor filled to the brink with loneliness and honesty.

She could relate to this Finnick.

"I'm just so ..." Her voice was foreign to her own ears. It cracked slightly, and Finnick looked at her again. "I'm so fucking tired of doing this. You're promised peace after the Games, but the Games don't end after we leave the arena. They continue on forever. Nobody ever really wins." She bit down on her bottom lip. "I miss feeling human."

"I miss feeling love."

Bex turned her head and drank in his stare.

Finnick smiled the tiniest bit. "We should all be able to find real love someday. We've been robbed of it for too long."

She swallowed hard. Suddenly, her hands were itching to interlock with his, to feel the warmth of his sun-kissed skin. Two lonely souls intertwining to become one.

But she stayed still.

"I'm gonna sleep now," he whispered, sitting up and turning off the light on the bedside table. His head hit the pillow instantly. "Goodnight, Bex."

She released a heavy exhale and stared into the mirror again. Bex didn't fall asleep until she knew Finnick had.


	10. A LITTLE HOPE

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER TEN

#####  **__________________________**

**BEX** woke up only a few hours later to find her makeup stained on the pillow.

She groaned at the sight of it, but knew there was nothing she could do. Turning the pillowcase over, she looked to the other end of the bed and watched Finnick snore away, muscular arms wrapped around the pillow beneath his head. He looked a lot more peaceful in his sleep, but Bex had no doubt that nightmares raged on in his mind. They all suffered that kind of fate.

Bex ran a hand through the mess of tangles atop her head. She needed to get out of here now if she didn't want anyone finding her. It was her only option. She carefully stood from the bed and grabbed her heels on the floor before pausing at the doorway. Looking over her shoulder, she wondered when they'd meet again, so she could thank him. Without Finnick, she might've endured that party for a few more hours and went home with Atlas' drunken mess.

Tiptoeing had never been a skill she excelled at, but she tried harder than ever before as she sauntered through Finnick's hotel room. The clock in the hotel room's makeshift kitchen flashed two thirty-one AM. She spotted some of his team sleeping in the living area, slumped against the comfy couch cushions. Bex had never really seen Finnick with his team at Capitol functions, so she almost didn't recognize them on arrival. But the Capitol-style makeup said it all, and she carefully strode around them to get to the door.

The lock clicked in place behind her and released a sigh of relief. It was when she was taking the elevator and realized she left her fake lashes behind that her anxiety tried to creep up again. But she knew Finnick was smart. He'd know a way to cover her. At least, she hoped.

They were friends now, weren't they? She enjoyed talking to the _real_ Finnick, not the character he played up for Snow and his disciples. Friends cover for each other.

As soon as she was back in her own hotel room, she found Phoenix snoring away on the couch. He waited for her to come back. Bex smiled and set her purse on the dining table before padding over to the small living area. She grabbed a faux fur blanket on the arm of the sofa and placed it over him. He wrapped an arm around it as she left for the bathroom, not suspecting a thing.

Bex almost cringed at herself when she walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. It looked like her makeup had been dragged down her face, smudged to the edge of her jaw. She carefully washed it all off, taking the most time with the glitter cemented on her lids, and began to work on her hair. It took almost fifteen minutes to get out of the high ponytail and untangled. Despite how loudly her bed was calling, she still hauled her naked body into a much-needed shower.

The water was scorching hot, but nothing had felt better in that moment. It rained down on her and melted that nasty chill set deep in her bones. She washed away all that remained of the Flower Girl until she was Bex Nassar again. Not Bex Nassar: the Victor. Not Bex Nassar: the Escort. Just Bex Nassar from District Seven, daughter of Rebekah and Keaton Sr.

_We should all be able to find real love someday._

Finnick's voice was a cool mist floating into the walls of her mind, seeping deep within her subconscious. She sighed and stared at her hands. The nail polish Iliana's team had painted on her tiny nubs shined in different lighting. Right now, it was dark purple. But Bex saw beneath it. She saw the blood still lingering beneath the glitter and the pretty nail polish. She was a killer that they dressed up like a doll.

_We've been robbed of it for too long_ , Finnick had said. But who could ever love a killer? Who could ever look past the fact that she _murdered_ people– _innocent children_ – to survive in this cruel world that never gave her peace? Who could hold her at night even when she screamed because of the nightmares that haunted her brain? Bex Nassar wouldn't be someone's burden, but she was so, _so_ lonely sometimes. She didn't expect anyone to learn to love her.

Maybe a fellow killer could, but she didn't want to think about that.

And it certainly wasn't the time to. After scrubbing her skin of all the body glitter and washing her hair, Bex turned off the shower and stepped out. She wouldn't be surprised if her own body was radiating smoke from how hot the water was. She blow-dried her hair on the lowest setting to not wake up Phoenix, until it was fell across her back in shiny waves. The pajamas she slid on were made of violet silk and warm to the touch.

Next stop, dreamland. She only hoped nightmares wouldn't come with it.

#####  **__________________________**

It was false hope to believe that, but at the very least, she hadn't woke up screaming that night. Well, for the little hours she slept. Bex was pretty sure it was only a total of five hours. Around eight AM, Phoenix barged into her room, sweaty, shaking her awake. Bex batted him away at first and hugged her pillow tighter, but then Phoenix used his "serious voice," and her eyes instantly snapped open.

"It's eight, Phoenix," she groaned, lifting her head from the pillow. "I had a long night."

" _Please_ , you think I don't know that? I heard the shower going at three AM." He stood up straighter and looked down at her. Bex sat up a little more. "This is important."

Her brow furrowed. "What is? I thought I was leaving for the train after noon."

"You will, but ..." He looked to the doorway, where Iliana anxiously stood. Bex's face twisted even more.

"I'm not here to dress you," the stylist promised. "Just here for emotional support."

Bex's stare flickered back to Phoenix, who was bouncing on the back of his heels. He finally replied, "President Snow is on the phone. He wants to speak with you."

Her lips parted. She dragged her tongue over them, but everything still felt dry. Even her throat. Bex glanced to Iliana, and then back to Phoenix. Raking a hand through her hair, she knew what her choice had to be.

It was that she didn't have one.

She pulled her hair into a messy ponytail and slid on a fluffy robe. Iliana slowly exited the room and went to sit at the dining table, where a fresh cup of tea waited for her. Phoenix walked out of the bedroom with her, hand on her back, and Bex was pretty sure that was the only thing propelling her forward. Her whole body felt frozen, but her feet were moving. Phoenix led her to the living area, and the hotel phone sat idly next to the sofa. The whole walk felt like ages, but it was only a few seconds before Bex sank into the comfy cushions.

Knowing that the President waited on that other end ... something about this was even more nerve-wracking than seeing him in person. She couldn't precisely know how to respond to him without seeing his face, monitoring his expression. No, this was even _worse_ than talking to Snow face-to-face. Her anxiety rippled through her body like a wave, and she found her hand hovering over the phone handle with hesitation.

Phoenix pursed his lips and stepped back to sit with Iliana, leaving Bex completely alone.

She took in a shallow breath and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded so small in the speaker.

" _Miss Nassar_ ," Snow bellowed, " _good morning_."

"Good morning to you too, President Snow."

" _I hope I didn't wake you._ "

Bex picked at a knotted curl from her ponytail. "No, you called at just the right time. How can I help you?"

" _I first wanted to thank you for joining us last night_ ," he said, and she could practically hear the sneer in his voice. " _Atlas looked very happy to see you, as did I. I noticed that you also spoke to our new Head Gamemaker, Plutarch. What did you think of him?_ "

She spoke through gritted teeth, "I think he will definitely make the Games interesting this year. You ..." She licked at the edges of her lips. "You made a wise decision."

Snow chuckled. " _I think so too_." He paused then, taking a moment to sigh very dramatically. " _Well, I must admit, I call with grim news_."

She was on edge then. Her skin raised in tiny bumps. A shiver ran from the top of her spine, all the way to her toes. Bex gripped the arm of the chair, but kept her voice even as she replied, "Oh? What news?"

_He saw you leave with Finnick last night. He's furious. He told you to stay away and you didn't listen. He could take away Keaton. Or one of the Victors, maybe. He could take away Nico or Johanna –_

The President sighed again, and Bex could've sworn she felt it on the back of her neck. " _Can I ask you a question first?_ " He didn't give her a second to respond. " _How is your relationship with my friend, Atlas?_ "

"Well," she bit her bottom lip, trying to think of the most favorable answer. "Atlas is ... He's very sweet to me. He's funny and we have a lot of fun. I'm glad that you put in such a good word for him. I enjoy his company a lot –"

" _It seems he would say the same_ ," the President hummed. " _Hmm ... interesting._ "

Bex didn't respond. She wasn't sure if her lips could even move at the moment.

" _This is very heartbreaking for me to do_ ," he began, " _but I believe you should break things off with my dear friend._ "

She rubbed at her eyes. For once, this was something she and the President could agree on. But _why_ exactly was he selling out his friend like this? Bex was under the assumption that Snow wanted her to spend more time with Atlas because they were good friends.

"Why?" She asked, more harshly than she would've wanted.

But Snow didn't seem to notice. " _I think he's getting too fond of you, if I'm being honest. And you_ _do know the rules of our contract just as well as I do. There is no time for dating your ... admirers. Not in this business. Not in the Capitol._ "

Bex swallowed hard. She turned her head to look at her team sitting at the dining table, their worried stares pinned on her back.

" _You must pay attention to your other admirers, right?_ "

"Correct," she said, rather quickly.

" _Good to hear that you agree._ "

Before she could stop herself, Bex blurted, "Can I just ask _you_ a question?"

It was bold of her. Almost too bold. But the President didn't answer, silently urging her to continue.

"This seems ... very out of the blue, President Snow," she spoke slowly, carefully. Each word was a test of her own power over him, the strength and confidence of a Victor. "Why would you want me to hurt one of your closest friends?"

He laughed. It was enough to make her skin crawl. " _Heartbreak, my dear, helps people grow. It helps them get stronger._ " He smiled through the phone. " _It makes them hope for a better tomorrow._ "

"You want me to break Atlas' heart so he can hope for someone better to come along?"

Another chuckle, but Bex didn't care this time. He was very clearly insulting her and she didn't want to hear it – not from him, the man who took so much from her. " _You'll learn, Miss Nassar, that hope is important. It is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective. In this case, just some of it will help Atlas carry on, so he can continue to be my close friend._ "

So that's why he wanted her to break Atlas. He was getting too bold, too unaware of her guidelines. Atlas thought that because he was close with the President, he could have whatever he wanted, but clearly not. Snow wanted his friend back and wanted one of his best Victors to follow the rules.

Bex's lips lifted in a smile, even though the President couldn't see it. "I'll do it, Mr. President. Thank you for your guidance."

That afternoon, Bex sat in the lobby of the Starmorning hotel in a mint green dress that complimented her smooth skin tone, a cup of honeysuckle tea in her hand. Atlas sat across from her, trying to hide the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It didn't matter how many times she complimented him and thanked him for their time together, he still cried. Atlas was at a loss for words.

She offered him a final hug goodbye before leaving the hotel. But Atlas's face became red. His eyes no longer sparkled; they were full of rage. He shoved past her embrace and waved a finger in her face. "All you Victors do is _use people_ ," he spat in her direction. "You're _awful_. You _used me_. To get what – I don't know. But you used me. Probably to get you into parties or close to the President. You make me _sick_."

" _Excuse me_ , but I can get into anything all on my own." Her tone was brutal, full of fiery wrath. This was dangerous for her to do. This would get back to Snow. But she didn't care. 

If she was lucky, he might like her for it. He was always unpredictable.

Bex held her chin high. "You're just pissed because a woman broke up with you first. You don't like being defied by the opposite sex." She chuckled mockingly, and Atlas' eyes narrowed. "But I guess it doesn't matter. There was never supposed to be a relationship in the first place. So go off and run your mouth to President Snow about me, but how about you also ask him who decided I end things with you in the first place?"

Her team watched by the doors with bated breath. Bex slowly approached Atlas and jabbed a finger into his chest. "You can do _nothing_ to me."

One last huff from him before he exited the hotel. He never spoke to the President about their scuffle, too afraid of the truth from his friend. That was the last time Bex had ever seen Atlas Pacuri.


	11. CHANGE OF SCENERY

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER ELEVEN

#####  **__________________________**

**SHE** didn't believe her eyes as she busted through the door.

Slinging a duffle bag over her shoulder, Bex shoved open the front door, trying to save herself from the downpour outside. It was useless, of course, considering she was absolutely drenched after walking from the train station to the Victors' Village. She kicked her boots off and shucked the wet hood from her head before walking to the threshold of the kitchen. Her eyes almost bugged out at the sight before her.

It was Keaton, drinking a beer in the kitchen, but someone else joined him. The dark-haired man twisted around and revealed himself to be Nico. As in, _the_ Nico Cadoc that hardly ever left his house, even to buy necessities.

"Hi," Keaton beamed, abandoning Nico and rushing over to his sister. He hugged her tightly, despite how soaked her clothes were. "I didn't expect you home this early."

"Well," she sighed into his shoulder, "I ended _something_ a bit early, so I was able to come back sooner."

Her eyes hadn't left Nico's. His mouth was a permanent frown; his eyes dark and distant. His whole face was sunken-in now, so different from the young man who mentored her eight years ago. He had never been as handy as other District Seven Victors, but he was confident enough, yet quiet. And then Blight offed himself, and everything went to shit. He was even more of a homebody, more than grateful when Johanna won her Games so he didn't have to mentor with Bex anymore.

He didn't look like himself now, but she wondered if he could say the same about her.

"Nico," she cleared her throat, "what a surprise."

Nico bowed his head and replied, "Yeah, for me too."

Keaton traveled back into the kitchen and picked up his beer. He placed a hand on Nico's shoulder after taking a swig. "I saw Nico actually sitting on his stoop today before the rain started, so I invited him in for a beer. We have a lot in common, surprisingly, but I don't see you a lot –"

"No one does," Nico cut in.

Everyone was quiet. The tension was suddenly so awkward. Bex clicked her tongue and felt all the rainwater from her clothes seep into her skin. She shivered and rubbed at her tired eyes. "I think I'm gonna –"

"Haven't seen you a lot either, Bex," Nico added, stare pinned to her. They sported similar bags under their eyes. "You've been visiting the Capitol a lot lately."

"It's my job, Nico. I'm the Flower Girl, remember?" She huffed as a pool of water began to form at her feet. "I'm going to shower and go to bed. I'm too tired."

Nico frowned, looking to Keaton. Her brother, however, already sensed Bex's discomfort and followed her out of the kitchen. She was a few steps up the stairs, the ends of her pants sloshing against the floorboards, when Keaton approached, eyebrows raised. "Are you okay? I feel like something is wrong."

"Nothing is wrong," she said, adjusting the bag yet again.

"Did Nico's question make you uncomfortable? I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it –"

Bex sighed, longing for the feel of a warm shower and her own bed. After enduring another Capitol party, having Atlas scream at her, only for her to scream back – she didn't want to talk right now. She was exhausted. Bex turned on her heel and looked down at her brother, waiting by the foot of the stairs. His expression was perplexed.

"It's okay, Keat," she said, trekking up the stairs once more. "I'm just tired."

#####  **__________________________**

And truth be told, Bex had been _extremely_ tired. She slept for almost three days straight, only managing to get up in the late hours of the night to eat a sandwich or drink water. The constant conversing with Capitol elite and the glitz and glamour ... it was enough to make her brain rot. Her whole body was exhausted, and she wanted to take whatever little time she had at home to make up for it, even if that meant sacrificing time with her brother. He allowed her to sleep though; he knew she needed it.

Finally, the bright sun filtering through her curtains became too intense to ignore, and Bex sat up from her mattress and threw her hair up. She opened the curtains and the window itself, allowing the sun to warm her skin. The scent of fresh wood and burning fires entered her nostrils, and Bex smiled. The scents of home would never not make her happy, even when she was in her worst moods.

Keaton turned abruptly at the sound of feet padding down the staircase, and within seconds, his sister stood in the entrance to the kitchen, sending him a lazy smile. He was cooking eggs. She could practically smell them all the way from upstairs. Keaton hardly ever ate breakfast, but the sight of him up so early and cooking at the stove reminded her of when they younger, when their mom would fashion the best breakfasts. All the food she'd make would rival a Capitol buffet.

Keaton looked back at the pan in his hands. "I didn't expect you up."

"I'm up now," she said, pouring herself a glass of grapefruit juice. "Can you make me some eggs too?"

He nodded as she leaned on the counter next to him. "Sure," he murmured, and then glanced at her. She looked well-rested, but ... "Are you okay, Bex?"

Her eyes were fixated on the TV in their living room, which she could see from the threshold of the kitchen. Caesar Flickerman was giggling along to playback footage of Peeta Mellark proposing to Katniss. The ring he was giving her was obviously donated by the Capitol: a pure gold band with a large, shiny diamond situated in the middle. It looked too gaudy for Katniss' taste, but she pretended to be surprised, her face lighting up like a starving kid getting his first meal in days. She really needed to work on her acting.

Bex blinked, bringing herself back as her brother repeated his question. She looked to Keaton on her right. "I'm okay now. I was just tired."

Keaton cracked a few more eggs into the pan and began to scramble them. "You're tired all the time," he said, throwing the eggshells in the trash. He sent her a perceptive look. "When can we go back to old times?"

Bex's brow crinkled as she took a long gulp of juice. "Old times? Like when we lived in a one-bedroom shack with mom and dad and could hardly afford to eat in warm weather because people weren't buying dad's wood?"

"No." He rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "When can you go back to just being a person?"

 _Never_ , Bex thought, but didn't voice it.

Her expression was pinched, but her mouth stayed in a thin line. Bex didn't reply, and instead, began to take out plates and utensils for their breakfast. Keaton didn't push his question. He finished the eggs and filled their plates. They both stood on opposite sides of the large kitchen and ate until Keaton looked up from his half-empty dish.

"Do you want to go into town with me after this?" He asked cheerfully. "I want to walk the wheel barrel around town with the extra wood I chopped over the past couple of days. Maybe I'll be able to sell more that way than at the market."

She'd never get tired of the normal routine in Seven. Everything had its purpose and everything had its place. Visiting the Capitol always made her more excited to be back home with the forest surrounding her instead of the mass of buildings and the smell of gasoline.

Bex's lips lifted into a smile. "Yeah, I'd love that."

After breakfast, Bex put on her first pair of pants in days. She was practically itching for them once she ran upstairs and threw off her fleece pajamas. What replaced that comfy sleepwear was brown cargo pants, a black Henley top, and her favorite pair of leather boots. She brushed out her tangled waves and threw it up once again before heading back downstairs.

Spring was in full swing outside, perfect for what they wanted to do today. Her brother was already packing up his wheel barrel when she found him outside. Bex laughed at his natural way to overdeliver and she bent down to help him. "Are you sure you'll be able to carry this the whole way?" She asked as they finished their pile. Keaton arched a brow. "What? It's a genuine question."

"Are you doubting my own strength?"

"Well, _no_ , but –"

Keaton held up a hand and then grabbed both handles of the barrels. "I got this. I've been chopping for years. Remember when dad used to force us to walk with him out in the forest?"

They walked down the path circling the Victors' Village, heading for the gates. "When he told us about how each time you cut down a tree, a soul rises from it and into the sky? Far too well. What a load of horse shit."

"'We respect the earth,'" her brother mocked their late father's voice, and Bex giggled, "'but we also take.' Why do they teach that to every kid from Seven?"

Bex shrugged and kicked the small pebbles that lined their path. "Who knows? Probably some earthy-crunchy way to describe all the bullshit we do for the Capitol. So kids don't know the truth." She glanced at her brother. "It's probably better that way –"

"Wait, who the _hell_ is that?"

She turned her head back to the path before them. There was a figure pacing by the open gates to the Village, covered head-to-toe in black: hoodie, jacket, pants and all. Keaton tensed and dropped the wheel barrel, but Bex didn't show any fear. She'd survived through way too much to be scared of some creepy guy in dark clothing.

If anything, this person should be scared of _her_. She was the killer.

"Hey!" She shouted, stalking up to the gates with determination. "Whatever stupid shit you plan on doing, you better get –"

The figure turned, but they weren't scary at all. They were _familiar_.

"Bex Nassar," Finnick grinned brightly, "fancy seeing you here."

Bex's stare went wide. She stomped over to the gates and with a mighty tug, she yanked him inside the Village, brows crossed. Keaton was still waiting several feet away with confusion wracking his brain.

"Hey, _hey_ ," he warned, "watch the hood. No one's noticed me with it on."

"Nobody cares about Victors in District Seven!" She whispered loudly, leaving Keaton to take a few steps forward, but still maintain his distance. Bex's grip on Finnick's arm got tighter as she started to ask herself if she was losing it. But the constant scent of fresh saltwater and citrus reminded her how real he was.

She searched his eyes, looking for silent answers, as he continued to smile down at her. "You _can't_ be here," she whispered, knocking one of the gates open with her foot. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Finnick laughed. He _laughed_ at her concern. "Might I remind you that the President isn't watching us outside the Capitol. No one would ever know I was here."

She pursed her lips, realization dawning on her. Slowly, her hand slipped off his arm, and for a second, she almost missed the heat radiating through his several layers of clothing. She couldn't imagine how much he was sweating in this nice weather.

But still ... "You didn't answer my second question," she reminded. "I'm guessing you're here to see Johanna?"

"Ah, no," he chuckled, ruffling the back of his head as he pulled down the black hood. "I'm actually here to visit you."

Bex gawked at him. She wouldn't be surprised if she looked exactly like the Capitol women that lusted for him constantly.

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Finnick said, "I realized in the Capitol that I selfishly enjoy your company a bit too much. Maybe more than you would like me to."

She blinked, unaware that her mouth was open. Before she could come up with a response, Keaton appeared at her side with his wheel barrel. "Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?"

Finnick flashed her brother that charismatic smile and put out his hand. "Finnick Odair. District Four Victor. Nice to meet you ..."

"Keaton," her brother finished and shook Finnick's hand. He then nudged Bex's side. "I'm this one's older brother. It's good to meet you, Finnick." Keaton's stare flickered to Bex. "So I'm guessing you two are friends?"

Finnick opened his mouth to reply, but Bex said before him, "I guess so."

"I came here to see you, didn't I?"

She sent him a tight-lipped smile. "You _sure did_."

"Well ..." Keaton looked between them awkwardly. "Bex, how about you show Finnick the house and I'll go into town on my own." He slapped Finnick on the arm, so hard that he flinched. Finnick wasn't sure if it was a threatening gesture or not. "Stay as long as you want."

With a grin, her brother strode off past the gates, heading to the center of town as the barrel clunked in front of him. Bex inhaled heavily through her nostrils and looked to Finnick. "Is this weird?" He asked suddenly. "You're giving me weird vibes."

"I'm not the one who showed up at someone's District out of _nowhere_." She huffed, turning back to the path that led inside the Village. "Follow me."

They walked side-by-side into the Victors' Village, and Finnick seemed to be in awe at the trees that stretched towards the sky, or the scent of a fresh fire in the early morning. As they neared Bex's estate on the corner of the Village, Finnick glanced over at her, those sea-green eyes filling with worry. "I'm sorry for showing up unannounced," he murmured. "I thought – well ... Since we got along so well in the Capitol, that maybe it would be –"

"No need to apologize," she interrupted, holding up a hand. "I guess I'm always just worried about Snow and what he sees. Keaton and I haven't had someone over in a while, so ..." She sent Finnick a soft smile, but only for a second. "Maybe this will be a good thing."

She held the door open for him as he entered, and he muttered, "Looks so different from the estates in Four." Bex kept quiet, only sending him a smile while he took in the whole house. She had never been to Four – obviously – but the Village houses couldn't be that different. However, she imagined there were a few distinctive qualities from Seven in her home, like the polished, hardwood tables and floors, and even the walls painted different shades of grey and green.

He followed her up the stairs, running his hand along the homemade wooden railing. Bex could only guess that he would be staying in her room. Their only guest room in this house was turned into Keaton's room, and she wasn't about to have him stay in their parents' room. Her shoulders tensed up while gesturing to her bedroom on the top floor. As Finnick stepped near the threshold, he looked down the hall at the closed door and asked, "What's that?"

"My parents' old room," she answered.

Finnick nodded slowly, but didn't pressure her to continue. From the look on her face, it seemed like a wound was still fresh in her system. He stepped inside the bedroom and spotted an old photo of her family on her bedside table. Turning around in a circle, he took in the bare walls, the messy vanity, which contrasted with the clean and put-together bed sheets, and then the Victor crown that laid idly on the edge of one of her windows. Finnick wondered if she cared if it fell out of the window or not.

"You can stay in here with me, if you want," she added, lacing her hands together. "There's also the couch, but –"

"This is fine," he chuckled. "No stress. I'm just here for ..."

Finnick trailed off, leaving Bex to raise a brow.

"A change of scenery," he finished.

He had _no idea_.

#####  **__________________________**

Bex wasn't entirely sure what they could do together. They came from two different walks of life, and she was too hesitant at the moment to take him around her part of District Seven or invite him down to the lake. Instead, she tried to make the best of a situation: she taught him to chop wood.

Finnick wasn't an expert by any means, but he soon got the hang of it – _somewhat_. "I'm more used to handling a trident," he chuckled to hide his embarrassment. He almost took her head off while swinging, and missed the chopping block at least ten times. But eventually – after _two hours_ – he split his first piece and threw it off the side. He was a sweaty mess by the end of it, but he never looked more proud of himself.

At the end of what felt like the longest day of her life, Bex invited Finnick to the kitchen to have dinner with them. The two still reeked of sweat, but they decided to ignore it while paying more attention to the grumbling in their stomachs. Much to Bex's surprise, her brother had set the table for dinner. They hadn't eaten there since mom and dad ...

And she almost asked him why now was the time, but from the look Keaton sent her as he placed each plate on the table, she kept quiet. They had a visitor over. It was time to get over their fears and give their guest a good experience. Finnick hardly noticed the exchange between the two siblings and instantly ran over to the table to sit down. Bex hesitated before taking the seat at one head of the table. Her mother's seat, which now belonged to _her_.

She'd never felt so connected to her mom since her vanishing until that moment. Bex debated on crying, but as she turned to noticed the excitement on Finnick's face, she decided to laugh instead.

They were having leftover meat pie for dinner. Bex had made it right before she left for the Capitol and there was still enough to feed an entire family. The Nassar siblings were grateful that they finally had another person to finish it. Each piece was steaming hot as Keaton plopped it on their plates. Finnick met Bex's eyes as he received his piece, and they were lit up with more excitement than she could ever fake.

"This looks awesome," he commented when Keaton took his seat at the other head. Picking up his fork, he began to tear through his slice. "I'm so used to fish pie where I'm from. This is a welcome change."

"Feel free to take some when you leave. We have _plenty_ ," Keaton said, mouth full of pie, and sent a glare towards Bex. She rolled her eyes. He always thought her portion size was off. "This is Bex's own recipe."

Bex savored the smoky taste of the gravy and wiped the corner of her mouth. "Adapted from an old one of mom's. I can't take all the credit."

Finnick loaded more into his mouth. Bex laughed, meeting Keaton's stare from across the table, and he smiled. Not because of Finnick's actions, but for the change. Sitting back at this table felt right.

Eventually, Finnick wiped his mouth with a napkin, looking in between the siblings. "I don't know if it's my place to ask," he said, "but is it just you two living here? Where's the rest of your family?"

Bex's had been chewing, but stopped immediately. She glanced at her brother. His blue eyes sent a silent message, one she couldn't quite decipher. Keaton set down his fork and laced his hands together in front of him, elbows bent on the table.

Clearing his throat, he began, "Well –"

"Gone," Bex replied, ignoring her brother's warning. "They're gone."

Silence echoed through the house. All they could hear were the crickets that lived inside the walls. Bex's brow shot up as she looked to Keaton once again, and then finished eating her slice, pretending that the subject hadn't been brought up in the first place. Finnick pursed his lips and dropped it. After everything, it seemed that they all found comfort in silence.

Their plates were clean in a matter of minutes. Both Keaton and Bex leaned back in their chairs. Finnick chuckled and pointed to his dish. "Now, _that_ was fantastic. I never would've pegged you for a chef."

"I've always been good with a knife and cooking," Bex remarked. Finnick laughed, understanding the dark humor in it.

Keaton, however, didn't find it funny at all. He shot his sister a wide-eyed look and she grew quiet, wiping her mouth again. He turned to Finnick on his left – sitting in the chair Keaton used to occupy as a kid – and asked, "How long are you staying, Finnick? There's no time limit. Just wanted to know."

It was a good question, one Bex wanted to know as well. And for once, it wasn't because she was counting down the days for his departure. No – she realized today how comfortable she was around the Capitol's Golden Boy. Maybe more than she would've liked, as he said hours ago. He was a change they all needed.

His presence caused her to feel human for the first time in a long while.

Finnick's eyes flickered to her. She sent him a hint of a smile as she took in his sea-green eyes, and she could so easily understand why everyone was in love with him. His grin was infectious.

"Well," he replied in her direction, "however long Bex wants me to stay."


	12. LAST PIECE OF THE PUZZLE

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER TWELVE

#####  **__________________________**

**SHARING** a bed with someone was never as easy as it seemed.

Bex once shared her bed with Keaton when they were younger. When they lived in the one-bedroom house her own father had built himself, before her victory and riches. Her and Keaton shared the only bedroom, and their tiny bodies had fit just right in the small mattress. But then, Keaton went through puberty, and suddenly, that bed became even smaller. Trying to sleep on the same mattress with him became a fight through the night where she was always on the losing end.

Sleeping next to Finnick was almost the same thing. But instead of losing, the two ended up intertwined in each other's holds. After waking up from a similar nightmare, Bex fell back onto Finnick's chest, and he was too tired to move away. The feeling of his arms around as the cool, spring breeze wafted through her window, the sound of his heartbeat lulling her to sleep – now that was something she could never forget. It was the most at peace she ever felt. She didn't have any nightmares in his embrace, and neither did he.

Once the sun drifted through the curtains and the two realized what position they were in, they didn't say a word. Not even an acknowledgment. As if it had never happened. Finnick sent her a simple smirk before Bex shoved him away, almost off the mattress.

At breakfast, Bex suggested in Finnick's direction, "We should go into town today. You still haven't seen the Trading Square. There's a market, a bunch of shops, and I really need to get some fresh vegetables for the pantry."

Finnick gave her that same smirk she had seen this morning, which felt like a sucker punch to the gut. Bex's breath hitched silently, but she didn't move an inch. Her grip on her fork tightened.

"Sure," he finally replied, "sounds fun."

Bex felt a weird sort of tension between them all morning, and it _certainly_ didn't help to see him walk by in only a towel. She had waited for him to get ready after she changed, picking at her nails while he showered. Once the door to her bathroom opened, a huge gust of steam filtered out, and Finnick sauntered with a towel hanging loosely from his hips. Bex swallowed hard, hoping her cheeks weren't flushed, and did her best to focus on picking the polish off her nail buds. But it was _hard_. 

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to _not_ pay attention when a man with a god-like structure is just waltzing through your room? She learned that the hard way.

But when they finally headed outside into the fresh, spring sun, the awkwardness drifted into the wind. Finnick had explained that he still wanted to keep a low cover while they were outside, so Bex plucked her father's old wide-brimmed hat hanging on the wall. She hesitated, looking down at it in her hands, and remembered the summer days when he would wear it on their trips into town. The hat hadn't left its spot on the wall in a long time, but Bex was dedicated to making changes.

The smile that graced her lips when she placed the hat on Finnick's head, covering his hair, was one of the brightest he'd ever seen.

As they were about to leave the gates, Bex suggested that they should probably invite Johanna, and Finnick practically ran over to his friend's house. Johanna opened the door with her pajamas still on, her eyes widening at the sight of Finnick there with his arms spread open. That was the first time Bex saw Johanna genuinely smile. She embraced Finnick before looking to Bex. "Why didn't you tell me he was coming?!" She exclaimed.

"Did you think I _really_ knew?" Bex raised a brow.

"What are you doing today, Johanna?" Finnick asked, rubbing his hands together. "Bex is going to take me to this Trading Square. You should come."

Johanna beamed and shook Finnick's shoulder. That natural harshness to her voice was gone, and she replied happily, " _Of course_ , I should."

The three were walking through the busy crowds of the Trading Square before noon rolled around. Bex and Johanna showed Finnick the factory that produced paper for the Capitol, as well as the dozen shops that lined their path. The Justice Building loomed in the background, attempting to cast a dark shade over the District. But it was still a nice day outside, and the air smelled of pine and fresh rainfall. No wonder why everyone was out today. Finnick kept his head down, even when Bex convinced him that no one was going to care about his presence, but he was still cautious. The hat covered most of his face from the sun and the people.

The Halston family was currently selling the freshest tomatoes Bex had seen. She picked up a few and threw them into her wicker basket, completely unaware of Finnick picking up one of his own and biting into it. Mrs. Halston chuckled once she noticed him, and then Bex turned to see his mouth lodged into the tomato. She immediately apologized to the family, but Mrs. Halston didn't fret. "It's on the house," she muttered, tapping the top of Bex's hand as she slid her payment. "Thank you. May the odds be ever in your favor."

The wink Mrs. Halston gave her made her shudder, but Bex wouldn't let her paranoia show. She sent her a sweet smile and shoved Finnick away from the produce stand. "You can't just take stuff!" She exclaimed, knocking the brim of her dad's hat.

Finnick adjusted the hat and grinned down at her. "Guess I'm just used to the Victor treatment. Sometimes I forget when I visit different Districts."

Bex rolled her eyes, angling down the opposite end of the square. Peacekeepers passed by like waves, more than she would've liked to count, and Finnick tilted his head down when he spotted them. Johanna hung an arm across his shoulders, despite her small stature, and carried another loaf of sweet bread in her hands. As the sun beat down on her, Bex wondered if she should've worn a hat herself. She turned her head and watched Finnick bite into the ripe tomato again, fighting off the urge to laugh.

The world suddenly seemed so much brighter with him there.

Their hands brushed against each other's and Bex shivered, even in the warm sun, as she thought what it would be like to hold his hand. Would it feel as comforting as his embrace in the late hours of the night? 

She licked her lips and turned away. 

Finnick Odair held a lot of hands, embraced a lot of people, shared kisses with many. Lacing his fingers with Bex Nassar's wouldn't feel any different. So why was she so sure that she felt a spark of electricity at the mere skimming of their hands?

Bex looked ahead and every thought dissipated.

Angelo stood behind his stand, his usual spot at the end of the market. An older woman hustled around him, which Bex could only guess was his mother. They shared the same chocolate eyes and dark curls, their skin a similar olive tone. She was much smaller than him though, lines etched into her skin from years of hard work and dedication, but she was still beaming. Her smile reminded Bex a lot of Angelo's.

Time had ceased. Bex hadn't even noticed she stopped walking until Finnick exclaimed in her ear, " _Hellooo_ , Bex? Anyone there?" She blinked a few times. Her head swung to face her two friends and she tried to form an excuse. Words failed her. The people around them pushed on by, but didn't come within a foot of the three Victors.

"What?" Bex asked, beginning to walk ahead. "Aren't you guys coming? I need to find –"

Finnick arched a brow. "Who were you staring at? It was like you were on another planet."

Johanna chuckled and pointed out Angelo's stand several feet ahead of them. "Oh, _I know_. That guy over there at the meat stand is Angelo. Bex has a huge crush on him. But she turned him down when he asked her on a date."

Bex smacked a hand on her forehead. There was no point in denying it. She reached over and pushed Johanna's arm down, reprimanding her for being so obvious.

Finnick viewed up and found Angelo's stand, pausing to stare at him. "Is that the guy you talked to me about?"

She nodded, watching him snicker with Johanna. Bex's eyes narrowed. She wondered if that was jealousy that flashed across his face or her own mind tricking her.

"Well," Finnick sighed, glancing at Bex, "I expected him to be less lanky."

Bex opened her mouth, wanting to tell them that nothing was going to happen – she couldn't let it – but silence overcame her. Instead, she shook her head and looked away.

"If you two are done," she sneered, dangling her basket in front of them, "I have more shopping to do. We should maybe focus on getting what I came here for rather than worrying about my love life."

Johanna chuckled, "If you say so."

Bex rolled her eyes and walked off towards Mrs. Yance's booth. Looking down at the list in her pocket, she counted off exactly what she needed. Bex paused a few feet away when she noticed another person at Mrs. Yance's stand, sliding money into her wrinkly hands.

But then, Bex blinked, and she noticed the way Mrs. Yance took the coins carefully. The old woman stared at the man before her, and then slowly lifted the corner of her jacket. A flash of gold shown in the light. It was a pin – a _mockingjay pin_. The man nodded in agreement and they both sent each other a smile before he was on his way. Mrs. Yance covered the pin just as quickly.

The mockingjay was a symbol of rebellion.

_Uprisings. Riots. Rebellion. Hope._

Bex heard the President's voice in her ear: _It is the only thing stronger than fear._

He said a little hope was effective, but what about a lot of it? What danger could that impose?

Peacekeepers were gathering throughout the market. Surely, they couldn't have seen the pin. But the threat was still there, and if they found the old widow with a symbol of rebellion —

Mrs. Yance met her stare through the crowd, and Bex felt all the air leave her lungs. She was moving backward, bumping into people left and right, until she ended up crashing into Finnick's chest. Bex viewed up, meeting his confused expression. Johanna had a similar look. She was spooked – anyone could see that – but from what, they had no idea.

"What's wrong?" Finnick asked, fear in his eyes.

Bex scrubbed a hand down her face and tugged on their arms. "We should leave."

Johanna ripped her arm away. "But you didn't finish your shopping –"

"Doesn't matter."

The other two shared a look before following Bex out of the Trading Square, back down the path they came. Bex swallowed hard and looked over her shoulder, finding Mrs. Yance in the horde of people. The widow had vanished from her stand.

#####  **__________________________**

Finnick and Bex practically flopped on the sofa in her living room after dinner, stomachs full of tomato stew and seasoned rabbit. After a few beers, Keaton had already gone to bed, kissing his sister's cheek before he walked to his bedroom. Bex, however, was too full to even move up the stairs. She sunk into the cushions, hugging a pillow, as Finnick swung his arms over the back of the couch and groaned loudly.

"I've only had rabbit once – _maybe_ twice – but that was the best ever. You don't usually eat it in Four." He turned his head, ogling the photo frame of Bex's parents on the table beside him, but turned away before she could notice. "I don't think I can move."

Bex huffed and leaned forward to grab the remote. " _This_ is about all I can do right now." She turned on the TV and a large hologram flashed before their eyes. The quality was a bit staticky at first, probably due to the wind outside. Or that her reception had never been that great.

She almost elicited the same groan Finnick released just moments ago at the sight of Claudius Templesmith. He was currently broadcasting "insider information" about what Katniss' wedding dress was going to look like. The report came from Cinna's recently-fired assistant, and she babbled on and on about the spectacular designs her boss had come up with. Bex had to choke down the scoff rising in her throat.

Instead, she asked Finnick, "Do you think they're actually going to get married?"

The projection switched to a replay of the proposal – probably the fifth time they'd both seen it. "I reckon they have to now," he commented.

"You can see on her face how tired she is." Bex sighed, studying the video closely. She watched the blank expression cover Katniss' face as Peeta rambled on to Caesar in a past interview. "I'm tired for her."

"She's doing something that's going to change everything though. I can feel it."

Bex swung her head and met his eyes. He arched a brow in her direction, one side of his lips lifting. She remembered someone else saying something similar –

_That Girl on Fire has surely sent out a spark._

She shook her head at Plutarch's voice, turning away from Finnick. He did the same, eyes glued to the TV as he muttered, "But who knows. This could all just be rumors made to scare the Capitol –"

Bex snorted, "Consider them scared."

Finnick's expression pinched. Bex noticed his furrowed brow and looked off, rubbing at the end of her nose. " _Basically_ ," she began, one hand out, "I talked with the new Head Gamemaker at Snow's last party. Remember? He came up to us while we were dancing. Plutarch was his name. He said he wants the Games to mean something again. Katniss is sending out a spark."

His eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure." Bex watched Snow clap on the static projection, and the screen flashed to a picture taken with Katniss and Peeta during their Victor coronation. She pointed to Katniss' furious expression on the TV. "But I know she wants his head on a spike just as much as we do."

Finnick scrubbed a hand down his face. He looked to the remote and then back to her. She was leaning forward, elbows propper on her knees, as she watched the projection, eyes hardly blinking. She didn't want to miss a second of examining the broadcast. Finnick cleared his throat and pointed to the remote. "Do you mind?"

Bex blinked before leaning back into the sofa, gesturing for him to go ahead.

He reached over and shut off the TV, watching it dissolve back into the cable box. Finnick licked the corners of his lips. They were both silent, and that was when Bex contemplated what they had in common. They hardly knew what to do when they _weren't_ talking about the Games. Any other conversation felt awkward and tense, but this ... the silence was suddenly so vicious.

Maybe it was just _her_. She needed to learn to open up more, but nobody realized how hard that was.

"Sorry," he muttered, "that conversation was just depressing."

Bex hummed back a response, but let the quiet echo again.

From the look on his face, she wondered if he was wondering why he came to Seven in the first place, if he was regretting it. She wasn't exactly the most interesting, or the most talkative. His brows crossed. Perhaps he'd made a mistake and he was debating when was the right time to leave. She'd understand –

"Do you have any music?"

She viewed up, seeing him standing before her. She'd been so in her head – _yet again_. "Um ..." Bex glanced towards the entrance of the kitchen and pointed. "There's a small pod in the kitchen window." It was one of her favorite things she'd selfishly bought in the Capitol. The speaker was as small as a coaster, and when turned on, it ignited a tiny hologram of a band playing together.

Finnick came back with the pod a moment later, setting it down on the table beside him, right next to the frame of her parents. Pressing down on the top button, a hologram instantly emerged of an instrumental band with a chorus of people singing along. The tune was familiar, but Bex couldn't quite put her finger on it.

And then, Finnick was standing in front of her, reaching out and awaiting her touch. Bex furrowed her brow and viewed up. "We should dance," he clarified, hand wavering before her. "Our last one got cut short."

Suddenly, Bex didn't feel so full anymore.

Her hand slipped into his own, traveling up to his wrist as she stood up. "Don't get any ideas," she grumbled and placed her other hand on his shoulder. Finnick only laughed, sliding his right hand on the small of her back, just as he had at Snow's party. His grip was firm as their hands clasped together, but his fingers were soft, free of the blisters and callouses that covered her own hands. She met his eyes and he smiled as they swayed along to the music.

Listening further, Bex finally realized where she heard this song –

_Deep, deep in the trees,_ the chorus sang together, _I find you there. My one, one and only. In the heart of the forest that is my home. Your love rides on the autumn wind, tumbling with the leaves. But it always leads me to you. My one, one and only. In the heart of the forest that is my home._

She had heard the song played in videos from her parents' wedding – that grand, beautiful wedding held in the woods behind their old house, where their family and friends had come together to create something worthy of the gods when her parents' didn't have the money to do so. Bex instinctively held Finnick tighter as the memories of them played in her head.

"This is the District Seven wedding song," she murmured, loud enough for him to hear. "It reminds me of my parents. My mom would sometimes hum this to me as a kid."

She laid her head on Finnick's broad chest, breathing in his scent. It had always been a mix of saltwater and citrus, but he now had a hint of lumber lingering on the neckline of his shirt. Seven was rubbing off on him. The blend of aromas made her want to stay in this position forever: holding him close, pressing her cheek against his freckled chest, instrumentals playing softly in the background.

Now, _this_ was what it felt like to be human, to not be part of a machine.

"What happened to your parents?"

His voice was gentle, only a mere whisper. If she didn't recognize his voice, she might've thought it was the wind. Bex breathed in, inviting the saltwater and lumber and citrus all over again. Her head was foggy with his aroma. She almost didn't hear him as he continued, "I'm sorry. I know you didn't want to talk about it before, but I just thought –"

Bex kept her forehead pressed on his chest as she replied, "Snow took them."

Finnick didn't even breathe.

"I haven't seen them since."

"Happened to my mom too." He laid his chin on top of her hair. "My dad, though — he was a fisherman. A poor one. One day he went out for a boat ride and ... never came back. My mom raised me on her own until Snow decided her time was up."

Bex wet her lips anxiously. "I'm sorry."

The hand that had once been on her back was suddenly cupping her cheek, bringing her eyes up to meet his. Finnick searched her dark, black stare. He saw the trauma and pain in it, similar to his own. The same kind of trauma he saw Annie Cresta suffer from daily, except Bex knew how to keep it in. She knew how to play the part. But not right now, not with him.

"Promise me," he muttered, "you'll never allow Snow to rob you of love again."

Bex blinked, and without as much as thinking, she laid her hand on top of his on her cheek. Her brows knitted together. "He's already taken so much," she replied, "but that ends now."

As his thumb stroked her cheek, Bex suddenly realized how close their faces were, and Finnick hadn't stopped leaning in until he was inches from her mouth. The music faded away and all she could focus on was his hot breath fanning her face, making her cheeks heat up. They both swallowed the fear rising in their throats. Bex slipped her hand out of his grasp and hooked it around his neck, while he held onto her back once again. Her lips grazed his. Their bodies molded together, fitting perfectly.

But Finnick Odair could not be the last piece of the puzzle. He was just as damaged as she was, and this was the last thing they should be doing.

Her eyes lifted to his, and they drifted apart. It took almost a minute later for them to stand away from each other. Bex swallowed hard and approached the light switch in the living room. "Goodnight, Finnick," she muttered before every light burned out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well......that was something! 😳 I'm not gonna make this easy. Sorry guys. I don't have a kiss planned for QUITE some time lmao
> 
> Also the lyrics to the District 7 wedding songs were made up by me!


	13. LOYALTY

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER THIRTEEN

#####  **__________________________**

**SHE** couldn't stop herself from getting up at the crack of dawn. It was like a switch had turned on her head and suddenly, Bex was on her feet, ready to start the day. The birds were chirping as she pulled on a fresh pair of leggings, a long-sleeve tee, and her special leather boots. As she finished tugging back her hair into a ponytail, Bex looked over her shoulder to see that Finnick hadn't stirred at all while she was changing. He was still snoring away, face pressed into the pillow.

She could feel his hand on her cheek all over again. The soft caress of his thumb. The way his breath fanned her face and a fire ignited in her stomach at just the thought of it.

_Promise me you'll never allow Snow to rob you from love again._

Bex rubbed the sleep away from her eyes and shut the door, allowing the memory to fade into the back of her mind once again.

After having a quick breakfast, Bex retreated outside and watched the clouds begin to gather in the sky. Another spring shower would be on its way soon. It was probably a good thing she got an early start today. She found the large log Keaton had brought in yesterday from the woods. It was waiting in the valley on the side of her estate, right next to the chopping block. Bex got to work, smashing her father's axe into the dense wood. The axe got lodged in the trunk a few times, requiring some heavy pulling on Bex's part, but it took her under an hour to separate the log into to tinier chunks, ready for the chopping block.

Bex wiped away the thick coat of sweat covering her brow, tucking strands of flyaway hair behind her ear, as she chopped the timber one by one. She never had this much energy in the morning before. It was invigorating. The mockingbirds' song only made her work faster. She threw the chopped wood into Keaton's wheel barrel, and then started another pile for her neighbors.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been out there when Keaton found her, stalking through the tall grass. Her axe went through another piece, splitting it by her feet, as he approached. Keaton waved his arms in the air and won her attention. Bex spun around and squinted as the bright sun invaded her eyes. She covered them with one gloved hand and chuckled in his direction, "Looks like you got up a little _late_ –"

"Bex," he exhaled, standing in front of her with worried eyes, "we have a problem."

She stepped back, confusion rattling her brain. Leaning her axe against the chopping block, Bex crossed her arms. Realization quickly dawned on her. "Why are Phoenix and Iliana here? We'll have to figure a way to get Finnick home if they want me to travel –"

"They're not," Keaton replied gravely. His hands formed into tight fists. "It's the President."

And suddenly, her eyes were growing wide. Bex shoved her brother out of the way and trudged through the grass. Uncontrollable tears welled up in her eyes. She was already sweaty, but this news just made her perspire more. Her breathing was heavy and ragged and brutal. She felt a hand latch around her arm, pulling her back to face them.

Snow didn't make house calls unless something was wrong. He'd never _once_ been to her house. This was bad. This was _so bad_ –

_Finnick_. Finnick was inside. What would the President do if he saw him?

Bex whirled towards her brother and grabbed his other arm. "Snow can't see Finnick. If he finds us together, he'll kill someone. He'll take someone. Oh, my _gods_ , Keaton, I'm gonna be sick –"

Keaton placed his hands on her cheeks. "Breathe, sis. _Breathe_." She did her best to follow his orders, but her nose was running and the tears wouldn't stop. He brushed them away. "I saw his entourage pull up. I had enough time to lock Finnick in your room. He's still sleeping."

Bex nodded quickly. "Okay, um – okay."

She was off again, sprinting towards her house. Bex spotted Nico and Johanna sitting on their front stoops, watching attentively as the chaos unfolded. Keaton wasn't that far behind as she jumped up the stairs to the front door, but the guard waiting outside forcefully shoved her brother aside. She turned to see him on the front lawn, arguing with the guard as he said, "No one else is allowed inside." A second later, the door was shut in her face and she could only hear her own breathing.

Fear crept up her throat. She had never been so terrified to be in her own house. Bex carefully took a step forward, studying the collection of guards spread throughout the bottom floor of her house. Her eyes flickered to the stairs, and then she quickly looked away. The scent of roses led her to the dining room, where the President sat at the head of the table, waiting for her with a small cup of tea.

He was using _her mother's_ china set. Her hands clenched and she debated on showing him all she learned in that arena eight years ago.

"Good morning, my dear," he smiled sinisterly, gesturing to the chair on his left. "Please, sit."

"I think I'd rather stand."

" _Sit_ ," he ordered before his tone changed, "please."

Bex looked over her shoulder to see the guard standing in the threshold of where she entered. Her only escape route vanished. She turned back to the President and gave him a tight smile. Rubbing away the sweat still coating her neck, Bex walked over to the chair and slid into it. She fixed the hair covering her eyes and inhaled the steaming cup of tea – cinnamon spice.

"What do I owe the honor, President Snow?" She asked politely, though her teeth were clenched.

"Well, for one, I thought I might finally see the Victors' Village in Seven. It's been a while since I visited this District, so I'm glad I popped in." He brought the cup to his lips and sipped. "Gods, it feels like we've seen each other so much, hasn't it?"

Bex's brow shot up when he wasn't looking. "Considering I spoke to you pretty recently, I'd say yes."

Snow released a chuckle, but anyone could tell it was fake. Bex tried to keep her breathing even as he beheld her with those beady eyes. "It's only because I value you so much, Miss Nassar. More than you may know. I trust you," he spoke evenly, "and trust is a very hard thing to come by."

She didn't answer, only kept her hands laced together on top of the table. Her father used to sit where he was sitting right now. It was taking everything in her to not grab that hot tea and splash it in his face, to pummel his head into the ground.

But her parents wouldn't have wanted that. So she continued that cheeky smile.

"And because I trust you, I wanted to discuss some important information that has been brought to my attention." He lifted his chin, watching her intensely. She didn't move. "Have you sensed any tension in your District? Any secret talks of a revolution?"

Bex stiffened. She could only shake her head.

The guards around the room scrutinized her.

"I've noticed it. In fact, I found it very hard _not_ to. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark's Victory Tour was a disaster and has resulted in some very ugly circumstances. Districts are rising up, talking of rebelling against the Capitol, and I fear it might be sooner than we think."

Bex remembered the mockingjay pin on Mrs. Yance's shirt. She remembered the way it shined in the golden sun, the way it flashed against the light. The Peacekeepers enveloping the market. And then, Mrs. Yance was staring at Bex, fixated on her presence, as if she could see into her soul.

"You're shivering, dear."

Bex swallowed hard and wrapped her arms around her. The sweat on her neck traveled down her spine. "Well, this isn't exactly the most comfortable of subjects –"

" _Why?_ " His voice cut through every bone in her body. He was leaning in, analyzing her every move. "Why is it uncomfortable?"

She felt something click in her head. All of a sudden, her mask was sliding off and she couldn't stop it. Her frown was revealed; her brows crossed. "Better question," Bex replied, a snarl threatening to release, "why are you _here_ , President Snow?"

"Alright, I'll get to the point then." He took another heaping sip of tea. "I need to know from you, my Flower Girl, what the future holds for _us_. If it comes down to a revolution, would you be loyal to the Capitol – the people who have given you so much – or your own District?"

Her heartbeat quickened. How could he possibly ask that of her? He knew the answer he wanted to hear, and he knew she would say it. _I would align myself with the Capitol_ , she'd say, just to save her family, District, Johanna, Nico, even Finnick. The thought of an uprising was a dream, but at what cost? The fact that it was becoming a reality was her very own nightmare.

But at the same time ... she couldn't agree to his terms. Bex was exhausted. She was tired of agreeing and playing nice and hiding the cold-blooded killer he made her into. She wasn't being taken advantage of anymore. Enough was enough.

"The Capitol has taken _everything_ from me," she seethed. "District Seven is all I have left."

Snow arched a brow, almost not believing her. "I have given you wealth and jewels and a monster of a home. I have kept your family safe –"

Bex smacked a hand on the table, leaning into him. The guards drew their weapons, but Snow waved them off. Bex didn't cower and searched his eyes. "You _took my parents_ ," she whispered viciously. "I have not seen them for _eight years_. The Capitol takes and takes. You wonder why people have started riots, President Snow? The answer has been in front of you all along."

"You have a debt to pay me _and_ the Capitol. Part of that agreement is loyalty, and if you don't choose us when it comes down to it ... I hope you hug your brother tight every night."

She settled back in her chair. Panic washed over her face. "Stop that. Stop holding his life over my –"

"Let me paint you a picture of what an uprising looks like," he interrupted, finishing the last of his tea. "Thousands upon thousands of your people _dead_. This town reduced to ashes. Imagine it gone. Made radioactive. Buried under dirt, as if it had never existed like District Thirteen."

She remembered hearing the stories of District Thirteen in school, but it never seemed real enough to believe. A District reduced to nothing. _Absolutely nothing_. They were taught as children that those people paid the price, but Thirteen's legacy would soon be their existence.

Snow laid a wrinkly hand on hers, and Bex was too scared to move it. "You fought very hard in the 67th Games, Miss Nassar. But they were just that: _Games_. Would you like to be in a real war?"

Bex didn't answer. She continued to stare at him, her eyes glazed over.

The President tapped her hand twice and finally removed his own. He cleared his throat, a signal for his guards to leave, and pushed his chair out. Looking down at her, Snow said, "Choose wisely."

He crossed the dining room, heading for the hall that led to the front door, when Bex found her mouth opening. Her voice was trembling as she asked, "When does the debt end, President Snow? When will I reach the limit?"

Snow turned, his mouth curling slightly. "You don't. The debt is your life. Your price for survival."

Her head was spinning. She looked down at her hands, imagining ash running through them. The ashes of her District, the people she'd grown up with. Tears slid down her cheeks as they filed out of her home and the front door clicked shut. She didn't want the burden of knowing that thousands of people perished for an uprising she supported. She'd rather die than having that hang over her head. However, this wasn't something she could ignore anymore. The end was coming.

She didn't want to be in a real war. But a spark was running within the Districts, and it would soon ignite a fire. The kind of fire that couldn't be contained.

_Finnick_.

Bex stood and sprinted for the stairs. Keaton rushed through the front door and locked it, spotting his sister on the fourth step. He called her name, but she ignored it and continued to run, practically shoving her body against her bedroom door. She fumbled with the lock, but the door eventually swung open.

And there was Finnick, still sleeping peacefully in her bed.

She released a breath of relief and closed the door softly behind her. Bex rubbed at her nose. The tears on her cheeks were drying. She paced around her room until her feet were numb, until her whole body was numb. It had been that way for a long time, but this was _different_. A different kind of numb, one that couldn't be shaken off by walking around for a few minutes.

_Thousands upon thousands of your people_ dead _._

_Would you like to be in a real war?_

_Your price for survival._

Bex stuck her fingers in her ears, anything to drown out his voice in her head. Fresh tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not anymore, not for _him_.

Her bed creaked.

She swung her head around, freezing in place as Finnick stirred, sitting up against the pillows. Rubbing at his eyes, he asked groggily, "Damn, how long have I been out?"

"It's ten AM," she said, looking to her clock. Bex didn't expect her voice to sound so hoarse, and even with sleep still tugging at his eyes, Finnick noticed it. His sea-green stare flickered to hers.

"What's wrong?" He asked, one brow arched.

Bex wiped away the new tears and rubbed at her runny nose. She hated crying – absolutely _despised_ it. Crying was a sign of weakness and she was not weak. But after keeping everything bottled inside for what seemed like a millennium, she needed a release. And sometimes, it would just come out, without any warning. She liked to cry in private. It was better that way. She felt herself cowering away as Finnick stared at the streaks of tears on her face.

She looked to the Victor crown that still sat idly on the windowsill at the other end of her room. She wanted to break it, split it in two with her axe.

"I was just visited by President Snow."

The words came tumbling out before she could stop them. Finnick's stare was locked with hers for a long time, so long that she wondered if he even heard her.

He finally replied, "While I was asleep? The whole time?"

She nodded. "My brother locked you in here. So he wouldn't find you."

Finnick slid to the edge of the bed in front of her, running a hand through his messy hair. "What did he want?"

"A promise of loyalty," she whispered, looking off into the window above her bed. After a beat of silence, she shook her head. "The Districts are actually rising up against the Capitol, and Snow's clearly threatened if he's doing house calls now."

They were both quiet. Finnick didn't take his eyes off her, while she simply swam in his sea-green irises. She thought about plunging herself into them, as if his stare was really made of the ocean itself. She swallowed down the lump in her throat.

"He threatened to take my brother, too, if I don't stay loyal to the Capitol." Her jaw clenched. "He's not taking my brother. I won't let him –"

"I know, I know."

Finnick got to his feet, and after a moment of hesitation, he walked over and hugged her tightly, like Keaton did. But this felt different – different in the way that her heart was thrumming against her ribcage and her palms were getting sweaty. Bex rested her head on Finnick shoulders, and it took almost a full minute for her to finally wrap her arms around his torso, fingertips brushing over his shoulder blades.

She breathed in his scent again, and the image of saltwater was the only thing that made her tears fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite scenes in the "Catching Fire" movie is the part when Snow visits Katniss in District 12, so obviously, the scene of him visiting Bex is based on that. I used some lines from that scene and I don't own them!


	14. WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER FOURTEEN

#####  **__________________________**

**BEX** refused to tell Keaton about her conversation with President Snow. No matter how much he badgered her for information, her lips were sealed. She couldn't let him in on Snow's threat, his picture of the future. It would just get Keaton riled up and afraid. He was daring enough to join the secret rebellion – she _knew_ he would – and Bex couldn't have that right now. He would be dead meat.

It was more of a time than ever to play the game. A game of loyalty – for Keaton's sake, above all else. She wasn't losing him.

Although it killed him inside, Keaton respected her wishes. His curiosity was off the charts, but he knew it would do them no good to argue about this, especially when Bex was still a bit shaken by Snow's arrival. Instead, he came up with an idea to get her out of the house, to get some fresh air. She'd barely left in two days, even with Finnick pestering her.

Keaton informed her that his business' competition – "the muddy, cruddy Thorton's," he called them – are now trying to sell their wood by the Trading Square. "Can you go down there and check out their prices for me?" He asked optimistically. "I need to know if I should lower my own rates or not, depending on theirs."

Much to his surprise, Bex immediately agreed. She was feeling much better today, and truthfully, that was only because she was now fully blocking out her conversation with Snow. She wouldn't tell anyone that, though.

The sky was cloudy today, but the air was warm. Only a slight chill fleeted through the trees. Bex dressed in cargo pants and a t-shirt, making sure to zip herself into a light raincoat in case a downpour came and went. As she slipped on her boots, Finnick walked out of the bathroom with wet hair and a fresh set of clothes on. He shook his hair out with a towel and asked, "Do you want to hang by the lake today? I think you mentioned it's a mile out from the Village."

Bex paused lacing up her boots and glanced towards him. Indeed, she did tell him about the lake near the center of town. She only mentioned it in case he wanted to swim by himself, but definitely _not_ with her. Bex couldn't swim. The farthest she ever got in that lake was the waist up.

Finnick arched a brow at her silence. "You did mention you had a lake around here, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's just ..." She looked back down at her boots and finished lacing them. "Maybe later. I have to do something for Keaton right now. Hang out here and I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Is it anything I can help with?" He asked, and she halted at the doorway of her bedroom.

She pointed at him as if he were a pet. "Just stay here. I don't need you getting into any funny business."

Finnick chuckled. "Not your dog, Bex Nassar."

She rolled her eyes. "We'll see about that."

After kissing her brother on the cheek, Bex headed outside and a cold breeze blew past her wavy hair. She noticed Johanna watering her half-dead rose bush outside her house and thought this was as good of an opportunity than ever to ask her to come. For the first time, Johanna Mason jumped at the chance to leave her house and immediately threw on her hiking boots before locking the door behind her. "Every time I run out of that sweet bread, I want it even more. I'm pretty low," she used an excuse, but Bex assumed there was another reason she agreed.

And she was right, because about twenty minutes into their walk, Johanna blurted, "Can I ask why Snow visited you?" Her dark eyes were filled with apprehension, fixated on Bex. "I know, you probably don't _want_ to talk about it, but –"

Bex's stare slithered over to hers. "No," she replied, expressionless.

Johanna paused and nodded her head. They continued to trek into the town square and a sliver of sunlight shown over the horizon. Bex turned back to Johanna to apologize, but the other girl said before her, "I get it. But ... Nico and I are here if you need us. We can't keep letting Snow bully us. Look what happened to Blight."

She nodded.

"We don't want that to happen again," Johanna finished.

Bex opened her mouth to speak, but a crack echoed out in the distance. The two women stopped short, looking up at the sky, before they realized the sound came from a few hundred feet ahead of them. Bex took a few steps forward and held a hand up for Johanna to stay silent. A crowd had gathered in a circle in front of the farmer's market, right before the Justice Building.

It wasn't just a crack they heard. That was the sound of a whip.

The two Victors started off into a sprint, skirting past the market and the Thorton's wood prices. They flew by every stand without even blinking, completely focused on the circle of people ahead of them, and then they began shoving through the crowd. Bodies were squished together, jam-packed like in the paper factory. Bex and Johanna were suddenly covered in sweat and forcefully asked people to move. The crowd was massive. Another whip crack rang through the air.

Bex and Johanna finally got to the front of the circle. All the color drained from their faces.

A post was nailed in the center of the crowd. Cuffed to it was a man with no shirt. Red lashes oozing blood were scattered across his back. A Peacekeeper stood a few feet behind him, throwing back his arm and giving the man yet another lash with the whip in his hand. This Peacekeeper wasn't normal though. He had no helmet, revealing his slicked-back red hair and wild, light blue eyes. His white uniform was stained with splatters of blood and grime. He was Alec Salomon, Head Peacekeeper.

And then, Johanna was running. Her hands were out to attack him and claw at his uniform. The look in her eyes was desolate and vengeful, even as she screamed, "STOP! STOP! LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

Bex gasped, too frozen to move.

Johanna was held back before she got close to Alec. Two Peacekeepers dragged her away by the collar of her shirt. She tried grabbing for them behind her head. Tears ran down her cheeks. "Let him go!" She cried, attempting to yank herself away. It didn't work. The Peacekeepers were too strong. Johanna seethed, "You can't treat me like this! I'm a _Victor_."

Alec suddenly whirled around, facing Johanna with a crazed stare. The Head Peacekeeper of District Seven had always been a bit harsh, but this was an entirely new side to him. Something to be terrified of. Even Johana feared for her life as his eyes pinned on her.

"We can treat you however we want. _Snow's orders_." He chuckled darkly. "Perhaps, we can chain you to the post next?"

His statement struck something in her, something that made a shiver run down her spine. Bex hurried out into the circle. She halted in front of Johanna and the Peacekeepers, arm out in defiance. Swallowing down the lump lodged in her throat, Bex lifted her chin and announced, "You need to _stop_."

The man at the post cried out for help.

Alex cocked his head to the side. "And what are _you_ going to do about it?"

Her hands formed into fists, and suddenly, her father's old hunting knife that she kept hidden in her jacket felt incredibly heavy. She had good aim. She could easily lodge the knife in one of Alec's eyes. But then, her stare shifted to the gun at his hip. His hand rested right on top of it, ready to shoot her down.

Everyone was silent. The man at the post sniffled quietly. Even the breeze seemed to stop as Bex met Alec's gaze once again. "Just let my friend go. _Please_." She took a few steps forward and the Peacekeepers before the circle followed, guns drawn. Bex halted. "You know us, Alec. Any time I've seen you at the markets, I've been nothing but nice to you. The people of Seven sell you meat and cheese and the best wood around. _You_ buy from my brother directly. President Snow's orders aside, _you know us_. Johanna has always been –"

Alec jabbed the end of the whip in Bex's direction, causing her to go quiet. He glared towards Johanna. " _She's_ agitated the people. _She_ interrupted me –"

"Hey, hey!" Bex's voice was becoming rough, almost grating. She raised a hand to stop him. "There's a big wedding coming up in the Capitol, right? For the two lovers from District Twelve? We want this to be a _happy time_. Can we let that happen?"

The Head Peacekeeper looked around with wary eyes. Johanna grunted against the tight grips that pulled her back. Bex held her breath as Alex turned to her.

" _Please_ ," she muttered, "let her go. Let _him_ go." She pointed to the man chained at the post. "I'm sure whatever he's done is not worth all this effort."

A beat of hesitation. The crowd looked around, waiting for Alec's next move. He shook with rage, but finally, lowered the whip. Then, he wrapped it around his hand and then hung it on his belt. "Let her go," he ordered towards the Peacekeepers holding Johanna. The young Victor fell to her knees before Bex lifted her. Alec then pointed to the post. "Unlock him. This was just his warning. Next time he disobeys, it will be punishable by death. No exceptions, not even for _Victors_."

Bex didn't want to know what the man did, but whatever it was, it couldn't be worth all the lashes. She held onto Johanna as the man was unlocked and he slumped to the ground with a thud. A family rushed out to help him, weeping while trying to get him upright. She could only guess it was his wife and children. No child should have to witness this horror. None of them in this square should've.

_Uprisings. Riots. Rebellion._

There were more Peacekeepers than ever now. Bex scanned the square and could count fifty more than usual. This was the price for hope, for the uprisings. Stricter rules and even stricter enforcement, intended to keep everyone in line.

Alec cocked back his gun and shot a bullet into the sky. The sound alone was enough to make their ears ring, and Bex stumbled back with Johanna. Everyone started to scatter. "CLEAR THE SQUARE!" Alec shouted at the top of his lungs. "Everyone is under curfew! Anyone out after dark will be _shot on sight_!"

Bex released a shuddering breath. This was the start of the end.

#####  **__________________________**

Terror ran through their veins, even faster than their feet could carry them. Johanna and Bex dashed back to the Victors' Village before the crowd could disperse. A twenty-minute walk became a five-minute run at their speed. It was understandable – from the racing of their hearts, the fear in their eyes. Something was _very_ wrong and suddenly, _everyone_ was in danger.

Especially, Finnick. If they found him in Seven, that is.

As the two Victors sprinted down the path to the Village, just nearing the gates in the distance, they noticed the insane amount of Peacekeepers dispersed around the District. They'd clearly been building up their taskforce for weeks now. Bex noticed, but she ignored it, preferring to live in ignorance and fear. Now they were wreaking havoc. Yelling at the elderly, condescending children, shouting about curfew. It was absolute chaos in Seven and there was no one to blame but hope itself. This was their punishment for having _hope_.

The gates to the Victors' Village were wide open as they passed through. Bex and Johanna used all the strength they had left to shove the gates closed. It didn't prevent Peacekeepers from coming in, but they knew better than to come to the Village unannounced. Bex needed time. She didn't have much of a plan to keep Finnick safe from Snow's new spies distributed throughout her District, but it was all they had. Even though it killed her inside to do it, and she wouldn't dare admit that.

The two went their separate ways when they arrived back at their houses, sharing a worried look before venturing inside. Keaton and Finnick were waiting in the living room, laughing at some silly Capitol TV show and making fun of the two hosts. They sipped on steaming cups of coffee and didn't even turn when Bex arrived. Their attention finally went to her as she stood just behind the couch, staring down at them with concern. As Keaton spun to face her, he took a sip of coffee and asked, "So did you get those prices –"

They stopped dead in her tracks, noticing how pale she suddenly looked, the worry hidden beneath the dark pools of her eyes. Finnick placed his mug on the table beside him and asked softly, "What's wrong?"

"I – I just ..." Her mouth hung open as she fought for words. She didn't even want to describe this. "I ... I just saw a man get whipped in the Square."

Keaton stood. "What?"

Bex rubbed at her eyes and mumbled, "Peacekeepers. They were _everywhere_. There are so many of them now. And there's a stricter curfew too. Anyone caught outside after it will be _shot_."

And then, her eyes snapped open, fixated right on Finnick. He was frozen in place.

"You need to get out of here. Go back to Four," she muttered.

Keaton walked around the couch and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Bex, c'mon. Think rationally about this –"

"You didn't _see it_ , Keaton." Bex jabbed a finger towards the window. "Dozens of them. They're all here, and they're Snow's second pair of eyes. If they find Finnick in District Seven –"

"I'll go."

Bex and Keaton both turned to Finnick with wary expressions. His hands were up in surrender and his throat bobbed. Bex took a step forward, but her hand was too numb to grab his. Finnick's once lively sea-green eyes were hurt, as if she told him this news to upset him. 

"If that's what you really want," he finished, backing away and heading for the stairs.

Her brows crossed. She followed him up the stairs to her room and murmured, "Wait, Finnick. _Listen_."

Keaton sighed and took a sip of his coffee. "Crazy kids," he mumbled.

Bex found Finnick in her room, already hauling his bag on the bed and stuffing it with his things. She lingered by the door, watching his expression contort with a mixture of rage, hurt, and confusion. Bex had always been good with hiding what she truly felt, but ever since her mask fell off with Snow, she had never been the same. Her eyes were filled with fear; her hands itched to hold him.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered. "I selfishly enjoy your company a bit too much."

Finnick's lips curled into a smile at the words he said to her days ago, but still, something painful lingered in his expression.

Bex took one step further into the room. "I'm not asking you to leave because I _want_ you to –"

"I know," he rasped, zipping his bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

Her brow furrowed. "Then why do you look like _that_? Like you're mad at me?"

"I'm not angry with you, Bex." He strode over to where she loitered at the door, his chest inches from hers. Bex wanted to drown in the sea-green of his eyes. Most people didn't see the flecks of the gold that sparkled in them, but she did. She got close enough to witness it in the morning sun, unlike anyone else. Bex Nassar saw the Finnick Odair that most would kill for.

"I'm just ..." His jaw clenched. "I'm just tired of that old prick doing whatever he can to control us. Our survival is never enough. He just takes and he takes and he takes even _more_." He shook his head, meeting her dark stare. He, too, wondered what it would be like to drown in those pools of pure onyx. "I'm tired of him keeping me away from what I truly want."

Bex pursed her lips. "You're his Golden Boy. You get everything."

As if gravity pushed him forward, Finnick Odair leaned down, their noses brushing against each other. Bex's eyes were wide, watching him intensely, drinking him in. Their stares never left each other's, not even when his lips lightly brushed her own, and she felt the sizzle of electricity against her mouth. It was like that night they were dancing all over again. Except this time, they were both fully aware of what they were doing, the implications one little kiss held.

If he kissed her right now, no one would know. Not the Peacekeepers, not Snow. Not even Keaton. But it might just ruin everything in ways neither of them could explain.

Finnick sighed against her lips and drew back. "Not everything," he muttered.

Just an hour later, Keaton and Bex escorted Finnick down to the train station, her father's hat covering his head. Despite the simplicity of the disguise, no one noticed him, and he got on the train safely before a Peacekeeper could check his identity. He slipped in through the doors, and then he was off. No hug. No goodbye. They didn't have time for those.

But something still lingered, and Bex felt it as she touched her lips in the dead of night, wondering what could've been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Finnick is gone. Peacekeepers are here. Which only means one thing: we're almost done with Act I! Next chapter will be the last of Act I, and then we'll be moving onto the actual plot of Catching Fire in Act II. I hope you guys enjoyed my little portion of Act I where I kinda ignored the canon lol, but we all gotta do that sometimes!


	15. THE QUARTER QUELL

#### ACT I: THE SPARK

##### CHAPTER FIFTEEN

#####  **__________________________**

**SEA-GREEN** haunted her dreams, drinking in the entirety of her soul. Bex felt every hair on her body stand up as she dreamed of Finnick's lips pressed on hers. She couldn't stop it. The pure temptation of kissing him filled her mind, begging for release. His mouth was so soft against her own in the dream, and then it was on her cheeks, her neck, and other places she definitely should _not_ have been dreaming about. Everything about him suddenly drew her in, and she never wanted to forget the way his lips molded to hers.

She never wanted to leave this dream. Bex Nassar was completely consumed by him.

But ... it was just a dream. And Bex awoke that morning looking around, wondering if it were real. Her room was empty. A light breeze filtered through the open windows. Finnick had left days ago, but she was still reveling in the memory, overthinking the electricity she felt when his mouth brushed against hers. She couldn't let go of it – _clearly_ , by the dream. Bex had never been one for crushes or getting too attached, but _this_ ... this was something different. Something she wasn't sure if she should be afraid of.

They were just dreams, though, and she found herself saying that almost every morning that she woke up from another dream of him. He was long gone now – back in District Four, she assumed – and she was safe in her home, hiding from the chaos outside. The dreams weren't her reality. Bex could ignore them pretty well as long as she remembered that fact.

However, they did teach her one thing. She could practically feel the soft caress of his voice in her ears. _Promise me you'll never allow Snow to rob you from love again_ , he said. And she promised him. Bex never broke a promise. With the impending revolution on the horizon, the time was now to take what she wanted. She wasn't going to let Snow crush her wants and desires anymore.

She was going to see Angelo today.

After Finnick left, Bex finally came to the realization that Angelo could truly be her perfect match. He made her laugh, blush, and get that insane amount of butterflies in her stomach. He had a job he was passionate about. He came from a good family. He was even from her same District. The type of man her parents would be proud to meet. Angelo liked her, and she felt the same – well, maybe not as much as she used to. But Bex wanted to like him again. She wanted to feel those butterflies when she first saw his smile. She needed to stop living in fear of Snow's repercussions and find happiness with Angelo. She knew she could.

Maybe Angelo wasn't exactly what she wanted right now. Finnick wasn't what she wanted either. Bex didn't need anyone. But the prospects with Angelo ... the future she imagined in her head ... she believed it could happen.

After throwing her hair up into a high ponytail, Bex began to search for the perfect clothes to wear to go see him. She felt herself turning into Iliana as the minutes ticked on. As she dug through her closet, she remembered how little clothes she actually _had_. Everything she wore to the Capitol was loaned; she kept none of it. All that was left in her closet were the clothes she didn't sell when her family needed the money.

Bex peered down the hall, eyeing the locked door to her parents' bedroom. She hadn't opened it in quite some time. Neither of the Nassar siblings did. Bex chewed on her bottom lip and padded her bare feet down the hall. Her hand hesitated on the golden knob, wondering if this was a smart idea.

Her mother would want this for her. She could practically see her shoving her clothes in Bex's face.

Maybe she'd feel closer to her.

Pushing the door open, Bex coughed at the heavy amount of dust circulating around the room. The bed was covered in a heaping coat of it, the sheets still strewn about. Bex swallowed hard and took in the photo frames hanging around the bedroom, the dead flowers drooped on the bedside table, even the old wicker drawer that was opened slightly. She walked over to the closet, using a tissue to wipe the dust off the knob, and opened the door. There it was: all the clothes are mother refused to sell, the blouses her father bought for their anniversary when he wanted to spend the last of his money on her. Bex almost couldn't believe it.

She delicately fingered through the clothes – what little there were – before Bex studied one of her mother's favorite blouses. It was passed down from her own mother, who died before Bex was born. The blouse was white with short, puffy sleeves and lettuce-edge trim. Embroidered tiger lilies and pink peonies lined the color, tangling together down the sides of the shirt. Bex brought it to her nose and inhaled her mother's scent. It was still there after all these years.

With a smile, Bex closed the closet softly, as well as the bedroom door, and walked back to her room. She made note to dust it and finally make the bed when the time was right. She was ready to make a lot of changes, starting today. After shoving the blouse over her head, which fit surprisingly well, Bex pulled on a pair of legs and laced up her boots. She was racing down the stairs in no time, eager to start her day.

Hopefully, Angelo would be at his stand alone, but Bex wouldn't let a person or two hold her back from accepting his offer for dinner. 

_This is a good thing_ , she told herself for the hundredth time today. She figured if she kept thinking it, it would settle the queasiness in her stomach, or the way her nails were digging into her palms.

She found Keaton in the living room, but ignored whatever he was paying attention to on the screen. Instead, Bex went over to the kitchen and made herself two slices of toast. She listened to the birds sing a foreign tune as the bread heated up. If they were in a good enough mood, she would be too. The sun was bright and warm. She was ready to make changes. _This is a good thing_ , she repeated. _This will be a good day_.

The toast popped up suddenly, and Bex hissed as she plucked the burning hot pieces from the toaster, laying them on an antique plate. She opened the fridge and reached for the homemade butter.

And then his voice rang out.

"Bex!"

The container of butter thumped against the floor. Bex groaned, bending down to pick it up, before setting it on the counter. Keaton yelled again, "Bex, you're gonna want to see this!" She rolled her eyes. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't as important as he was making it out to be. The only attention-grabbing shows on TV at this hour were gossip channels and infomercials.

Bex sighed, bringing the plate of unbuttered toast as she made her way to the living room. She chewed with an annoyed expression, stopping short behind the sofa. Looking up, she planned on asking her brother why he called her in so quickly, but the words fell dead on her lips.

Citizens of the Capitol clapped and cheered. President Snow stood from his throne and approaching the podium, adjusting his gold microphone. Bex finished one piece of toast from chewing so nervously, but the other piece was getting cold on her plate. She watched the President wave to the crowd and rounded the couch, walking towards the TV projection.

His suit was made of onyx wool and a cape of faux fur sat on his shoulders. Bex wondered how many people have to slave over making that one outfit, just so he could parade around in it, that sick smile on his face. He hadn't even started talking and she was disgusted.

She almost forgot why she had gotten ready so early in the first place. Snow's existence seemed to transfix her.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice echoing, "this is the seventy-fifth year of the Hunger Games."

Bex swallowed hard, refusing to meet her brother's wary eyes. Had another year really crept up that quickly? It felt like months ago she was training new tributes to die.

President Snow continued after allowing the crowd to cheer, "And it was written in the charter of the Games that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell. To keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol."

Goosebumps raised on her arms. Bex narrowed her eyes at the TV, wondering what his motive was. She never experienced a Quarter Quell, having been born before the last one. But they were known to be terrifying, the kind of Games that stayed in your head for a long time, even for the people that watched them. She wasn't sure if she was ready for whatever Snow was going to announce. The shiver that ran down her spine assured her of that.

_Uprisings. Riots. Rebellion. Hope._

_It is the only thing stronger than fear._

"Something's wrong, Bex," Keaton whispered, but she silenced him with her finger.

"Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance," Snow sneered. "And now on the seventy-fifth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell ..." He raised the stack of speech cards in his hands. "... As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol."

Bex's blood ran cold. Snow's eyes were burning into hers through the projection.

"On this, the third Quarter Quell Games ..." The President paused, smiling into the camera lens. "The male and female tributes are to be reaped ..."

She held her breath.

"... From the existing pool of Victors in each District."

The antique plate clattered to the floor, breaking into several pieces.

"Victors shall present themselves on Reaping Day, regardless of age, state of health, or situation ..."

Keaton stood up, tears already streaming down his face. "Bex –"

"Oh, my –" Bex held a hand to her mouth, stepping backward. Keaton walked towards her, but she stopped him by holding another hand out. She could hardly feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Oh, _gods_. This isn't ..."

She was at a loss for words. Her feet kept moving back until her spine thudded against the front door. Suddenly, her eyes stung, and she pushed Keaton away before yanking open the door, sprinting down the steps.

Bex puked as soon as she got to the front lawn. The smallest amount of food that laid in her stomach came flooding up her throat, creating an acidic taste in her mouth. She hacked and coughed what felt like her lungs, but it was just that smallest piece of toast. She was panting; she couldn't breathe right. Wiping the edge of her mouth, Bex viewed up, tears streaming down her cheeks, and glanced at her neighbors' houses.

Johanna and Nico stood in her same position, heaving and clutching the ground to keep themselves balanced. And then, they were all running towards each other, tumbling towards the center of the Victors' Village. They looped their arms around each other, gasping for air as they tightened the hold. The three Victors cried together. They tasted the salty tears on their lips, sobbed into each other's shoulders. 

Keaton watched from the window in the kitchen. He wished he could be holding his sister now, too.

This was what Blight was saving himself from. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he had to know of the Quarter Quell wrinkle. _He had to_. And he saved himself. The Victors looked off into the distance, analyzing the bullet hole that cut through the brick walls of his house, and they cried. Not just for themselves and their fates, but for Blight too.

And as Bex studied the tear streaks down her fellow Victors' faces, she realized how she never took the signs that seriously. She knew the end had been coming, and she ignored it. She played ignorant, as if it were a friend. It was nice for a while – being happy and naive. But it was all crashing down now.

Hell hath no fury like a Victor scorned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally entering Act II in the next chapter!


	16. FOR GOOD LUCK

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER SIXTEEN

#####  **__________________________**

**LIFE** had gone by in a blur. Bex spent most of her days at home, watching the sunrise and then set, biding her time. You'd think that with the limited freedom she had, she'd use it for something better, like spending more time with her brother or seeing Angelo. Things that made her happy. But happiness wasn't a virtue in Panem, and soon enough, it was Reaping Day.

Once, she had held hands with the Capitol's Golden Boy and allowed their lips to brush. Once, she felt butterflies for the boy at the meat market. Once, she had been a person. All of that was gone now. She hadn't contacted anyone in months; her lips could hardly pull into a smile. 

Any small part of her happiness had vanished, yanked away by the clutches of the Capitol.

She wore her mother's top today, the one with the embroidered flowers and lettuce-edge trimming. Bex hated that on all days to show this off, it had to be now, the day where the universe would decide if she was going to live or die. She hugged her arms around herself when she slipped on the pretty blouse, as if she were embracing her mother, but it wasn't the same. And she wouldn't dare cry either. Not today. _Especially_ , not day.

After sliding on a pair of clean pants and flat shoes, Keaton came to up to her door. She had been pulling her hair back when she noticed him in the mirror: freshly shaved, button-up shirt, dress pants, and shoes. Bex didn't have the heart to send him anything other than a frown.

He knocked on the doorframe softly with his fist. She pulled back one side of her hair with a barrette and turned away from her vanity, waiting for him to say something. Keaton stood there silently.

Finally, he muttered, "I don't know if I can go, Bex."

Her brows crossed. Did he think she wanted to be there any more than he did?

She wouldn't allow her anger to spike, not when they didn't have much time left.

Bex blew out a sigh and viewed up at him. "Keaton, you have to. It's mandatory."

"I hate going. Never have and never will." He shook his head. "And ever since you got called years ago ..."

She ran a brush through the tangled ends of her hair. "No one likes to go to the Reaping. I need you to go, Keaton." Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip for a moment. "After I'm called –"

" _If_ you're called."

"Yes, _if_ ," she corrected, setting down the brush and approaching her window. Bex eyed the Victor's crown sitting on the edge, but refused to pick it up. Fear ricocheted through her system. She turned back to Keaton. "My last moment to see you will be after the Reaping. I don't know if I'm going to come out of this."

Keaton was stone-faced. "I can't watch you go through this again."

A small, light flashed in the corner of her eye, and Bex looked out the window. It was the sun reflecting off the Peacekeepers' uniforms as a group of them pushed through the gates of the Village. She exhaled, "That's also mandatory."

When she looked back at her brother, she was surprised to see him suddenly in front of her, one hand in the front pocket of his pants. She opened her mouth to say something, but he spoke before she could. "You're still allowed tokens, right?" He asked just above a whisper, as if the Peacekeepers below could hear. She should be heading down now –

"It doesn't matter," she muttered, trying to get past him. "I need to leave. The Peacekeepers are coming."

Keaton grabbed her hand, pulling her back to face him. "They can wait, sis. This is important." He finally slid that one hand out of his pocket, revealing a small ring in his palm. The emerald in the center of the gold band glistened in the sunlight.

"Mom's wedding ring," she breathed out, ogling the old piece of jewelry. Keaton liked to keep it in their parents' room, untouched and hidden, and she thought it would stay that way for a long time. In fact, she hadn't seen this ring since –

Keaton took her hand out, placing the ring in her palm and closing her fingers around it. "Mom gave this to you during your first Games and you _won_ , even with the odds stacked against you. I want you to have it again for good luck."

It all came back to her then: the fresh tears she shed once her parents came through the door to the Justice Building. Her name had just been called before they shoved her in this room, waiting for her family and friends to give her their last goodbyes. Bex sobbed over and over again, staining her mother's shirt, before she held Bex's young face in her hands. It was the face of a scared teenager, one unprepared for the world she was going to be thrust into. But then, she slipped that wedding ring off her finger and onto Bex's, begging her to keep it on her at all times. She did just that. The ring never slipped off, even with the blood that coated her hands from all the kids she killed. Bex was proud to give it back after she finally came home. She slid it back on her mother's hand with a smile.

Keaton was taking over that role now, but Bex wasn't sure if she'd be able to give it back. Still, she slipped it back on that same finger and flexed her hand. It fit well, surprisingly. 

Bex met her brother's eyes. "Thank you," she whispered before wrapping her arms around him. He smelled of cedar and fire, honeysuckle and pine, like _home_.

A loud knock resonated on their front door. Bex composed herself, sending her brother a sympathetic smile, before freeing him from her hold. She didn't want to, but she _had_ to. There were no choices left for her to make. She realized that while descending the stairs, Keaton following a few steps behind. The knocking didn't cease and matched the same ache in her skull. She opened the door and shielded her eyes from the sun. That didn't particularly help the headache either.

The Peacekeepers' black masks stared her down until one gestured for her to walk ahead with their gun. Bex swallowed hard at the weapon. How did these people exemplify peace when they practiced the exact opposite of that?

She walked back to Keaton where he stood silently at the end of the stairs. He stared ahead at the Peacekeepers, but met his sister's eyes when she grabbed his hand. She squeezed their fingers together. "I'll see you soon," she promised, earning a nod from him.

And then, she was out the door, walking ahead of the group of Peacekeepers that stood on her stoop. They followed her down the steps, and Bex looked to the side to see Johanna and Nico being escorted in a similar fashion. The three Victors waited, sending each other worried glances, before the whole ring of Peacekeepers gathered together in the center of the Village, and began to accompany them to the town square.

As she passed through the gates, Bex's eyes scanned Blight's house. She wondered if that bullet hole would ever be filled or if it was going to haunt the Victors' Village for eternity.

The group of Victors walked through the District with Peacekeepers on every side. They stomped in a row, one behind the other, while the Peacekeepers copied their movements but with guns drawn at their sides. Everyone was staring at them as they arrived in the heart of Seven, where the town square was located. The Justice Building looked like a large, looming black cloud, covering the citizens of District Seven in a dark shade. The people parted into two groups as the Peacekeepers approached, but they couldn't take their eyes off the Victors. Their faces were grim, like they'd seen a ghost.

Phoenix was on the stage of the Justice Building, smiling, but anyone who knew him could see the pain hidden underneath. Beside him was their Head Peacekeeper, Alec Salomon. His brows were narrow and his eyes formed into slits as the Victors approached the stage. Bex peered around at the crowd, popping her head over the Peacekeepers' helmets. She searched for her brother in the hordes of people and hoped to find him upfront, but as they neared the Justice Building, he was nowhere to be found. Bex could spot those blue eyes anywhere.

The Victors took their places on stage: Nico on the far right and Johanna and Bex on the left. Two glass bowls sat on either side of Phoenix, who was dressed like a beaming, yellow light in all this darkness. He grinned towards the crowd, holding up his speech cards in a pair of gold sequin gloves. The District's mayor and cabinet, all bleary-eyed and saggy-faced, sat in old chairs behind Phoenix. They were flanked by Alec and his Peacekeepers for protection. As if the Victors were going to do something to retaliate.

They couldn't. They were already dead.

"Welcome," Phoenix announced, tapping the mic to make sure it was on. "Welcome, everyone, as we celebrate the seventy-fifth anniversary and Third Quarter Quell of the Hunger Games."

Bex scanned the crowd again. Keaton wasn't there, not even in the back. She knew he didn't want to come, but he _had_ to. It wasn't the time to rebel. Not today. She needed to see him one last time and have him tell her everything was going to be okay, even when it wasn't. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them away. 

She looked around at all the people watching her. They were staring at her with pity and sorrow. Friends, customers, farmers – their eyes pinned on her. They made her want to cry even more.

"Ladies first," Phoenix beamed, walking over to the glass bowl on his left. He studied Johanna and Bex with a frown reserved for them only. His lips lifted only a second later, ready to play his role. Their lives were all on the line now and they couldn't falter.

Two slips of paper laid against the bottom of the bowl. Phoenix sighed and reached into the glass, picking up one slip of paper without even looking. He walked back over to his mic.

Bex closed the gap between her and Johanna with her hand. She laced their fingers together, sending the younger girl a gentle nod.

"The female tribute from District Seven ..." Phoenix opened the folded paper and looked out into the crowd. His lips parted as he announced, "Johanna Mason."

Bex didn't realize her eyes had been closed until she opened them, and they landed right on the younger girl beside her. Her breathing stopped, but her mouth was opened wide in shock. She remembered her own Reaping all those years ago. She remembered the way Phoenix called her name, how his eyes went soft as she walked up to the stage, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. She remembered the way her insides had twisted, the heart-wrenching feeling that set deep within her chest. Bex shuddered and released a shallow breath.

She was feeling everything all over again, and no one – not even Phoenix – could've prepared her for what she was going to do next.

Johanna had slipped her hand from Bex's. She began to walk over to stand next to Phoenix, feet moving ever-so-slowly across the stage. Her dark stare browsed the crowd of shocked faces.

And then Bex's hand shot up.

"I volunteer as tribute," Bex Nassar spoke confidently. She pulled Johanna back to her former spot and walked over to Phoenix's left.

Johanna was so frozen that she didn't fight it. Her face was blank. " _Why_?" She begged Bex, but the older girl just shook her head. She blinked rapidly as Bex stood beside Phoenix, his hand on her back. This was the first time Johanna had been speechless in a while.

But her plea still echoed in Bex's head like a chant. _Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?_

Why had she volunteered? It would've been just as painful to mentor Johanna through this Quarter Quell and watch her endure an arena all over again. There was no easy way out of this. But Bex didn't have an answer as to _why_. She just knew she needed to do this. That feeling in her chest only ceased when her hand went up.

"A dramatic turn of events," Phoenix chuckled into the mic. He looked over at Bex, analyzing her, but she didn't have the heart to meet his eyes. "District Seven has only had two volunteers in all the years of the Hunger Games, and now we have our third – a past Victor and during a Quarter Quell, no less. The female tribute from District Seven will be Bex Nassar."

Nobody clapped. No one even batted an eyelash.

Bex's eyes danced across the crowd, and finally, she spotted her brother's light blue stare. He stood in the far back, mouth gaping at where she stood. He was so far that Bex wasn't sure if he was crying or not.

"Now, the men," Phoenix cleared his throat and strode over to the glass bowl.

Only one slip of paper in this one. Nico had been studying it from the moment he stepped on stage, but he didn't look at Phoenix as he stood over the glass bowl. Nico stared ahead, waiting for the end with bated breath.

Phoenix swallowed hard and grabbed the paper. Sauntering back over to the mic, he unfolded the slip and called, "The male tribute from District Seven ... Nico Cadoc."

Bex wiped away the tear that had been drying on her cheek and met Nico's eyes. He nodded in her direction – a promise, but she didn't know what for. Phoenix placed a hand on his back as well and smiled towards the crowd. Bex had never seen her escort act so terribly in all the years she'd known him.

"The tributes from District Seven: Nico Cadoc and Bex Nassar." Phoenix sighed dreamily. "May the odds be ever in your favor."

The crowd was completely silent. No one moved or cheered. Bex could only hear a hawk cackling in the sky. The Peacekeepers approached the two Victors from behind to escort them to their next space. Bex could feel Alec's breathing on her neck.

And then, hysteria broke out.

Someone in the crowd – a man, tall, wearing a wide-brimmed hat in the middle of the sea of people – raised a fist and shouted out, "THE ODDS ARE NEVER IN OUR FAVOR!"

Peacekeepers cocked back their weapons and pushed into the crowd. The people forced themselves against the Peacekeepers, and Bex could spot her brother trying to sprint towards the front, right to her. She ran forward as Peacekeepers shot bullets into the air. A hand latched around her arm and tugged her back, further and further away from her brother.

Keaton cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "BEX!" But his voice was drowned out by the screams of the raging crowd.

"Time to go. No saying goodbye," Alec breathed in her ear, hauling them both inside the Justice Building. "Straight to the train."

Bex heard more bullets rain down as the doors closed in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Act II!! This act will be all about the Quarter Quell, so I hope y'all are excited. I have SOOOOOO much in store!


	17. POISON PARADISE

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

#####  **__________________________**

**BEX** begged the group of Peacekeepers that surrounded her to let her say goodbye to her brother. They replied in silence and urged her to move forward. The train waited for them patiently, but Bex kept her eyes up over the heads of the Peacekeepers, hoping to see Keaton one last time. She didn't. He wasn't coming for her, nor was he able to, and Bex was forced onto the train with only the memory of her brother's embrace.

Nico ran a hand through his hair and sat down on the couch, but his back was rigid. He was quiet, lacing his hands together, and resting them in front of his mouth. Bex didn't say anything, too afraid to ask if he was even okay, and stared at the cart of scones on the dining table. She debated on picking one up. It was time to savor everything, take nothing for granted. These might just be her last days to enjoy the little things in life, like perfectly-crafted pastries from the Capitol. 

But Bex kept her hands firmly at her sides, looking over her shoulder when she heard someone's boots stomp up the steps of the train.

Johanna's face was sunken in, the natural blush drained from her dark skin. She looked like she ran a mile. Sweat coated her hairline, dripping down her cheeks, and she was breathing heavily as she approached the two Victors. They were her new tributes, and Johanna now had to play the role of mentor. Her teeth chattered at the thought.

"Guys," she shook her head, "I –"

"Whatever you're going to say," Nico exhaled, " _forget it_. What's done is done, Johanna. Hope you enjoy mentoring us."

Johanna's brow crinkled. "Can you at least have a little more empathy over this situation?"

"Why should I have empathy when I'm walking to my death?" He raised a single brow, waiting for an answer. Johanna was silent. "That's what I thought. I've seen death before – we all have. And we know it's ugly. I'm not ready to face it again."

"Stop it. _Both_ of you," Bex cut in. "The last thing we need is more fighting."

Johanna turned to Bex, dark eyes drinking her in. She grasped Bex's forearm tightly. "You should've let me go, Bex. Why did you do _that_? Why would you go back in again?"

Bex swallowed hard. She could only utter the word, "Because." Everything else felt too hard to say. She felt like something was lodged in her throat, preventing her from speaking another word.

But the question still remained. Why had she done it? Bex didn't quite know herself. In the heat of the moment, humans can do such vile and surprising things. At the very least, her volunteering would be a statement. She was only the third person from District Seven in all history to have volunteered. That had to count for something. And maybe – if she were lucky – volunteering would show her silent loyalty to Snow. He wanted loyalty that badly, so this was it. Loud and clear.

Keaton would be safe, as long as she showed her devotion to him and the Capitol. This was a good starting point.

Bex turned back to Johanna and slipped her arm out of the younger girl's grip, clapping it on her shoulder. "If there's anyone who should survive this, it should be the youngest."

"You of all people know that nobody really survives this." Johanna's frown deepened. "They just endure."

The train entrance slammed shut as another person entered and they began their journey across the tracks. The trees were already becoming a blur as they sped towards the Capitol. Bex turned her head to Phoenix entering the train cart. He was quiet and brooding, grabbing the first bottle of white wine that sat in a large ice bucket before him. Snatching the first wine flute in front of him, Phoenix poured himself a drink to the very top of the glass. He downed the whole flute, then poured himself another. The three Victors watched with morbid curiosity.

Finally, Phoenix sauntered over to the couch and plopped himself next to Nico with his second glass. Nico looked over at their escort with a glare, but Phoenix ignored him as he sat back against the cushions and rubbed at his forehead.

Johanna was the first person to speak: "What? Do you have _nothing_ to say about this?!"

"Nothing good to say," Phoenix quipped. Bex noticed his voice crack as soon as his mouth opened.

Phoenix took another large gulp of his wine before setting the flute on the table next to him. He took his head in his head, rubbing at his eyes and throbbing temples, before he began to muffle his own sobs. Bex had always seen Phoenix as a beacon of hope. Whenever things had gone awry, he was always there to show her the light or help her rationalize. He was more than just an escort; he was a great friend. But now, seeing him like _this_... it was the hardest thing she ever had to witness. She never thought she'd see him cry.

Phoenix's sobs racked his entire body, causing him to shake as the tears made their way down his cheeks. Bex wondered how long he'd been holding this in. It seemed like a while. Nico's scowl had softened, and he scooted over on the couch to sit closer to Phoenix. He laid a comforting hand on the escort's shoulder.

Bex wanted to comfort Phoenix, but she had her own misery to deal with at the moment. The sun was high in the sky and she had never been more tired. Her eyes burned from looking at it for too long. Her throat hurt to even speak. So she did the best thing she could: she walked over to Phoenix, placed a hand on his arm, and squeezed. She sent him a soft smile and turned to walk away.

Phoenix caught her hand before she could get too far.

Bex looked down at his grip, and then to his tear-streaked face. He tried to wipe away the evidence, but the tears were drying on his skin, etched into his expression. Phoenix shook his head and muttered, "I'm sorry, Bex." He looked around the room, eyeing each and every one of them. "I'm sorry to all of you."

Nico nodded his head in thanks. Johanna crossed her arms and looked away.

Bex clasped his hand tightly as sleep called to her, causing her eyelids to sting. She exhaled softly, "It's alright, Phoenix."

She retreated to her sleeping quarters without looking back.

#####  **__________________________**

Bex chose the last room available on their train and didn't set foot outside of it for the rest of the day. In fact, she slept for a total of nineteen hours – not quite the same amount of time as when she slept for three days straight, but still somewhat of a record. 

Despite her circumstances, she had her first full sleep in a long while. The Capitol train provided them with all the clothes they needed, including the comfiest pajama sets she had ever worn. Bex felt bad having to take off her mother's blouse and replace it with something made by the people who took her, but their pajamas were too good to resist. She went out like a light after sliding on a pair of blue silk pajamas and curling herself into the comforter on her bed. It almost felt as good as Finnick's bed in his penthouse suite.

Her mind wandered to thoughts of him during the night. How he was, what was his stance in all of this, but Bex shoved those questions away so she could go back to a peaceful sleep. Thinking about him for too much longer caused anxiety to creep into her stomach, making her want to throw up.

If he was involved in this Quarter Quell too ... she shuddered at the thought and pushed it to the back of her mind. Finnick could handle himself on his own. Bex needed to worry about protecting herself now, not other people.

Sunlight streamed through her windows sometime past eight in the morning. It warmed her face and caused her eyes to snap open. Bex huffed, running a hand through her greasy hair, and looked out into the sun. She didn't know why, but something about the light gave her a sense of hope, and she held onto it in her mind. Hope was a very hard thing to come by these days. She didn't dare let herself slip back into misery, even with her impending death.

She took a quick shower, allowing the excessively hot water to help clear her conscience. Bex wasn't sure what she was exactly clearing – the worry, the bad thoughts – but _something_ in her mind felt so heavy. Maybe she simply needed a reminder that she was still present in her own body. The long sleep helped to calm her, but Bex needed the rush of steam and hot water on her face just to remind herself that she was here, that she was alive, just for a little while longer. Now wasn't the time to be numb. She needed to _live_.

Bex slipped her mother's ring on her finger when she stepped out of the shower. She would've certainly wanted her to live.

After wrapping a robe around herself, Bex retreated into the dining cart with a fresh pair of wool slippers and wet hair tumbling down her back. Everyone was already sat at the table, dressed and ready to go as they neared the Capitol. Phoenix was flipping through a Capitol magazine while Johanna sipped on a cup of black coffee. She was eyeing Nico with disgust, who was currently stuffing his face with as much toast and jam he could eat.

Phoenix closed his magazine as soon as Bex slid into a seat at the table. She poured herself a cup of coffee and muttered, "Looks like everyone got an early start this morning."

"How did you even sleep for _so long_?" Johanna scoffed, setting down her cup. "I could hardly keep my eyes closed."

Phoenix flung his magazine on another chair. Bex began to butter a toasted blueberry scone as he said, "None of that matters. Now that everyone's here, we can get down to business."

Bex was surprised at his attitude this morning. He seemed a lot more upbeat and prepared, a complete contrast to the sobbing mess she experienced when they boarded the train yesterday. They all needed to be ready now. Time for crying was over. They needed to be alert at all times. After all, they would be walking into a room of trained killers.

"We have a few hours before we enter the Capitol," Phoenix explained. "Everything will be different because this is a Quarter Quell." He played with his watch until a tiny holographic image burst from the surface.

Nico picked up one of the scones from the tray in front of Bex. He examined it for a minute with his lip curled up. "I can't imagine much difference. They're still serving these nasty things on the train."

Bex smacked his hand away from the tray. Johanna rolled her eyes.

" _Anyways_ ," Phoenix continued on, presenting a blueprint of a new building from his watch, "the Capitol will spare no expense. This will be the new Training Center." He pressed a button on his watch and a new image appeared. This time, it showed a bedroom that rivaled the décor of the penthouse suite at the Starmorning hotel. "And this is an example of the new tribute living quarters." Phoenix swallowed hard and shut off his watch, eyes flickering between the two tributes. "And also a special arena."

Bex arched a brow. "How special?"

"Probably unlike anything we've ever seen. Every Quarter Quell has been weird." Johanna slid over a tablet that sat beside her placemat. "I've been reading up on them. The last one – the fiftieth Games – had a twist where they had twice the amount of tributes from each District. Two boys and two girls. Forty-eight tributes."

Nico replied, "Now _that_ was a long Game. I remember watching them as a kid, before I was picked."

"Almost eight days," Johanna added, scrolling through a page on her tablet. "Gamemakers described the arena as 'the most breathtaking place imaginable.' It was mostly this beautiful meadow that stretched on for miles with a forest in the distance on one side and a snowy mountain on the other, but that turned out to be a fucking _volcano_. Everything in the arena was poisonous – the water, the food, plants, even the mutts. The only safe water and food came from the rain and inside the Cornucopia. No wonder they called it the Poison Paradise."

Bex swallowed hard and stayed silent.

Phoenix's eyes flickered to her face. Sensing her growing concern, he took a large sip of his tea and pointed towards the tributes. "You two should probably get yourselves dressed right after breakfast. We don't want to be late for anything once we arrive." He then glanced at Johanna, who was continuously scrolling on her device. "You should definitely be changing too."

Johanna looked down at her gray t-shirt and brown cargo pants before scowling in Phoenix's direction. "Fuck off."

Bex tried to hide her smile with the lapel of her robe, but Johanna still saw it. They ate in silence. Phoenix continued to flip through his magazine and Johanna read up on more Quarter Quell history. Bex wasn't exactly sure she was ready to be a mentor in a Quarter Quell, but she wouldn't dare allow her in this arena if it was going to be as bad as years past. Johanna was too young to experience it again. Some might say that Bex was too young as well, but sacrifices had to be made. She had to trust in Johanna's skills and her own.

After finishing off another scone, Bex retreated back to her room to get dressed. She tore through the clothes provided on the train, but couldn't find anything she really liked. Considering they would just be departing the train and going right into the Training Center, she assumed her outfit didn't need to be too fancy. She picked up the pants she wore yesterday from the floor and pulled them on. Then, she took out a dark red blouse from the closet and buttoned it on. She left her hair natural as it dried from her recent shower, but still tugged a comb through the tangles.

Bex played with the wedding ring on her finger and sighed. _For good luck_ , Keaton had said while placing it in her palm. Little did he know how much she'd need that now. Or maybe he did.

A flash of red caught her eye in the large window in front of her. Bex stood up and walked over to the glass, wondering what it could've been. Cement walls surrounded them as they traveled through a tunnel. The lights flickered while the train sped by, and Bex finally noticed the red again.

It was from a symbol painted on the tunnel walls. Every few feet, the symbol repeated, accompanied by the words, _THE ODDS ARE NEVER IN OUR FAVOR!_ She heard the man's voice from the Reaping in her head again, haunting her. Bex swallowed hard as the mockingjay symbol became more clear before her very eyes.

The symbol of rebellion. The symbol of hope.

The people of Panem had more hope than President Snow could ever imagine.


	18. EXPERIENCED KILLERS

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

#####  **__________________________**

**THE** train came to a slow halt in front of the new Training Center. It was situated in the same place as the last one and built entirely from the ground up. This new building was taller with a top that curved to a sharp point and a transparent elevator that could be viewed even outside the Training Center, made just for the Capitol's curious eyes.

Bex tried to forget about the painted symbols she saw during their ride here. She pushed them to the back of her mind, right in the same place where her concern for Finnick resided. Just the thought of his name sent a wave of panic into her gut, but she did not falter. She couldn't anymore. Bex fiddled with her ring as a distraction and followed the rest of her team off the train. An Avox waited at the bottom of the stairs and helped her off with a gloved hand.

Her team huddled together as they each took in the new pretty building before them. You almost wouldn't believe this place trained children to be cold-blooded killers. The outside made it look like a hotel, but the inside was equipped with weapons that most would shiver to even behold. Something beautiful could be so deadly underneath the surface. The Capitol had built Bex Nassar the same way.

She turned to peer across the tracks. Various other trains pulled into the station, all adorning numbers related to the Districts from which they were journeying. A giant number 7 was plastered on the side of her train. Her eyes narrowed as she counted the other Districts entering the Capitol. One and Two seemed to have gotten here the earliest. _Figures_. District Twelve's train wasn't far behind them, which meant the Capitol's favorite lethal lovers were waiting in the Training Center as they arrived. (Unless Haymitch Abernathy, the only other living male Victor from Twelve, happened to be picked.) Then, there was Eleven's train, Eight, even –

_Four_.

District Four's train sat in front of Three's. They must've arrived just before they did. Bex absentmindedly started to walk towards it, abandoning her team in the crowded station, but her feet were moving without her control. Her breath hitched as she stood on her tip-toes, trying to catch a glance of the team venturing off the steps of the train. There were too many people, though. She couldn't see, and she was left with nothing but disappointment.

Someone laid a hand on her shoulder. Bex looked back and discovered it was Johanna. "Are you good?" She asked, one brow quirked upward.

"Ask me later," Bex groaned.

Johanna curiously looked over her shoulder, right at District Four's train up ahead. Her dark eyes flickered back to Bex. "C'mon, let's go inside."

Leading her back to the group, Bex waited with her team to cross the street and head into the Training Center. She hadn't been inside here in years, and with good reason. She hardly liked being near it, in fear the old memories of her time within it would resurface. They always did.

She walked across the street with Phoenix leading the way. His suit was a vivid fuchsia pink with gold accents. Bex was pretty sure that he could be seen from a mile away, even in a crowd. A group of spectators and photographers lined the outside of the Training Center, waiting to get a glimpse of the Quarter Quell tributes before tomorrow's parade. Bex kept her head high as she walked through them, smiling and waving when she needed to. Nico stiffened and allowed Johanna to guide him through the crowd. He had never been trained for this, but Bex had. Far too well.

"Oh, Phoenix Demi!" A man with green and yellow hair approached, arms flung out. "How we have longed to see your face again!"

Bex arched a brow as Phoenix embraced the man. He was flocked by three different women, all adorning hair with different shades of purple and surgically-modified cat eyes. The rest of the team stood back as their escort hugged every single one of them, kissing their cheeks and exclaiming how much he missed them. The group then approached Bex and the others, flinging their arms around them and kissing their foreheads, spewing excessive amounts of admiration and respect for what they're about to do. "THE FLOWER GIRL!" They cooed in Bex's direction, eyes lit up. Photographers swarmed them like a hive of tracker jackers.

Bex blinked a few times when the green-and-yellow-haired man planted a kiss right on her lips, but she tried to act as if it didn't faze her. He then turned to Phoenix and squeezed his arm. "We _must_ catch up soon," he insisted, tugging his herd of women back.

Phoenix nodded while leading his own team away. " _Absolutely_! Ta ta for now!"

They rushed through the circle doors of the Training Center before the photographers and Capitol citizens could reel them back in. Bex glanced at Nico as they entered the building and muttered, "Ta ta?" Nico replied with a simple shrug.

She kept her head down. The Training Center may be new and rebuilt, but the memories still remained. It had a new appearance, but nothing could change its purpose. This wasn't a building to marvel at and praise the décor. This was a place where killers were made, and no amount of rebuilding could change that fact.

The new elevator was something, though. She'd give it that. They entered and the doors slammed shut in front of them. The elevator was clear on all sides, inviting a welcoming view of the outside, as well as the twelve floors that surrounded the entire building. Bex took a deep breath in and leaned back against the railing, turning to Phoenix as he pressed the button for the seventh floor.

"Who even were those people?" She asked.

Phoenix snorted, "I have absolutely no idea."

The elevator doors opened to reveal the whole floor they had to themselves. The tribute living quarters were completely redecorated, as Phoenix had said, but something about this room seemed so much bigger. It was so wide and open and _bright_. That might've been due to the glass walls rounding one side of their floor, greeting them with a view of the Capitol. Their bedrooms must be even bigger. Bex stepped out with Nico and looked around in awe.

"Snow always outdoes himself," Phoenix muttered.

An Avox appeared in front of the dining table, holding out a tray of bubbly, green champagne. Bex hesitated to take it at first, afraid of what scientific properties it held, but Johanna went right in without skipping a beat. She lifted one of the flutes and smirked towards the Avox, "Don't mind if I do."

Phoenix and Nico slid into two comfy seats surrounding the dining table. The chairs were made of white leather and the table was stacked with piles of food and various drinks. The Avox held out their tray further, beckoning Bex closer, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Instead, she studied them carefully, tilting her head to the side.

They looked male, and the stature, the height, the prominent muscles – something about it was familiar. Their face, too. Full lips were pressed into a tight line, but Bex could still see where their two dimples still resided. The dye job to their hair was messy, the blue fading into brown at the top of their slicked-back curls. Their dark eyes held no life in them, but the scars that littered their cheekbones told a different story. They once had a life, one that had been taken from them, along with their tongue.

Bex didn't realize how long she had been looking at the Avox until Johanna snapped in front of her face. She blinked and looked towards the young mentor, who was gesturing for her to come forward.

Nico poured himself a full glass of some fizzy purple liquid as Bex stood behind his chair, leaning against it. "They certainly redid these living quarters," he said, still in shock. "Iliana will be excited to see it. When will we be seeing her again?"

"Soon," Phoenix answered, biting into a chocolate cookie with red icing at the top. "The Tribute Parade is tomorrow, so you can bet she'll be here bright and early in the morning."

Nico sighed and sat back in his chair. " _Great_."

"Speaking of tributes ..." Johanna took a sip from her glass and leaned against the chair at the head of the table. "We should probably sit down and discuss this year's. We need to rethink everything we know about the Games. These are all experienced killers, and it's better for us to know them now before they take the first chance they get to threaten you two at the parade tomorrow."

Bex felt a wave of nausea take over her body. Everything Johanna said was all true. Their competition was experienced killers and so were they. It just felt weird to think about; it always had. Bex held a hand to her forehead and rubbed. "Can it wait?"

Johanna looked at her dumbfounded. " _Not really_."

"Nico and I can do the research on our own," she argued, padding out of the dining hall. "Right now, I'd just like to lay down."

Nico pushed his chair out a little, but didn't stand to follow her. He sent her a concerned look and asked, "Are you okay?"

The District Four train interrupted her vision, and she began to overthink if she had truly seen a flash of bronze hair getting off of it, heading into the bustling crowd. She dragged a hand over her eyes and pulled herself out of the memory. Bex's stare flickered over to the Avox, now standing in the corner of the room. She swallowed hard and looked away,

"I just ..." Her hands slapped against her sides. "This place makes my brain hurt."

Bex spun on her heel and walked down the hall. She assumed these new living quarters had the same layout as the old ones, but on a much wider scale. "See you later! _Maybe_ ," Johanna shouted after her. Bex drowned her out, heading to the first bedroom on her right.

Despite the lavish décor changes, the room felt so similar. The whole layout looked like the same one she had eight years ago. When she mentored each year after and took the tributes to the Training Center, she didn't step foot in her old room. She tended to sleep on the couch, even though it did numbers to her back. But now, she was here again, and Bex couldn't help the flood of memories that invaded her mind.

She remembered crying on her bed, debating on suffocating herself with her own pillow. She remembered almost breaking that body mirror with her hairbrush. She remembered standing on her balcony and watching the Capitol people cheer for her below.

This wasn't the exact same room, despite some similarities, and Bex wouldn't make the same mistakes she did eight years ago. She huffed and shut the door before walking over to the bed. The comforter was as soft as a cloud, the mattress even softer. She laid back on her with hands beneath her head and sighed.

Looking up at the ceiling, she almost wanted to laugh at the mirror hanging above her. Bex stared at her reflection and imagined someone beside her. She turned her head to the other end of the mirror and watched the ghost of Finnick Odair smile at his reflection. 

A groan escaped her lips. She closed her eyes and wished for the thoughts of Finnick to fade away again, just so she could get a grip on reality. It was kind of hard to do when you keep thinking about someone you asked to go away months ago.

That time with him in Seven was so different. Bex had felt _better_. Finnick's presence had awoken a spirit in her that she hadn't known that she still possessed. She missed smiling so much it hurt. She missed when he danced with her in the living room and she could smell the ocean on him. She missed teaching him to chop wood and how he almost got himself in the eye. She missed how tight he held her against his chest after they both had a nightmare, the way his arms felt like they could protect her from everything, even herself.

Bex wanted to feel that way again, but she couldn't. Not anymore.

She dragged a hand through her hair and sat up, reaching for the remote on the side table. No matter how trashy the Capitol television shows were, they always could help her forget. She pressed the power button and a large hologram screen appeared, revealing Caesar Flickerman's large smile.

Bex grabbed one of her pillows and screamed into it.

"As you all know, this is a very special year for the annual Hunger Games. The Quarter Quell pits our Capitol favorites against each other in the arena." Caesar held a stack of speech cards in front of him and flipped to the next one. "They're all cunning, smart, and skilled. They all know one another, except for our two outsiders from District Twelve. My _favorite_ lethal lovers."

So Katniss and Peeta had been Reaped. Poor kids.

Bex watched Caesar laugh enthusiastically into the mic. "Way to show favoritism," she muttered to herself.

A video appeared to the left of Caesar as he shuffled through his cards. It was of this year's tributes from District One, Cashmere and Gloss. Bex should've expected it; they obviously volunteered. 

"Gloss and Cashmere from District One," Caesar announced. "Our favorite brother and sister duo, and the only known siblings to win the Games. They won back-to-back games, both volunteers. A very beautiful pair of siblings, but also very lethal."

Caesar was right. Gloss and Cashmere won their Games just a few years shy of hers, and Bex remembered watching them with a mixture of horror and awe. How could two beautiful people be such deadly killers? She guessed that maybe she could say the same thing about herself now. But unlike Bex, they both looked so happy to volunteer. Cashmere's painted pink lips were pulled into a righteous grin, eyes pinned on the camera.

Bex wondered if she volunteered with her brother to save herself from Snow's contract. Just for a little while.

The video skipped to another pair. "Brutus and Enobaria from District Two," Caesar introduced. "Also volunteer tributes. These two have always loved to participate in the Hunger Games in any means possible. Both skilled and tactical. Definitely, a pair to watch out for."

The projection flashed to a video of Brutus with a microphone shoved in his face. He grinned like a mad man as he said, "I can't wait to get back into the arena."

Enobaria stood next to him and flashed her filed-down fangs. Bex grimaced at the sight of her. "Not that scary bitch with the weird teeth," she muttered. Enobaria frightened her both as a teenager and even now. Brutus was also terrifying, what with his bulging muscles that could crush her skull with one snap and his talent with a spear.

How was she going to be able to kill these people?

"Next up is Beetee and Wiress from District Three," Caesar said once the camera turned back to him. A video of two tributes at their Reaping materialized beside him. "As much as we can remember of their Games, these two are definitely not fighters. But they're incredibly brilliant, which can do a lot for you if you know how to use it well."

Beetee looked confident and aloof as he stood before the camera at the Reaping. Wiress, who stepped next to him moments later, was clearly in a daze. She looked around with glazed eyes, hardly facing the camera. Despite this, Bex had no doubt that they were clever. Anyone in the technology business had to be. It would be beneficial to have allies like this, those who could definitely be on her easy-kill list in the end.

That's if she survived the Cornucopia bloodbath. A shiver crawled down the length of her back.

The District Four insignia emerged on the screen before flashing back to Caesar's shit-eating grin. He flipped to a new card in his hands. Bex held her breath.

And then his face appeared.

"Finnick and Mags from District Four," Caesar tattled on. "Finnick – a fan favorite amongst us all. Our Golden Boy! One of the youngest to ever win the Games. He's charming, smart, and very skilled at combat, especially in water." The announcer looked to the video beside him, where Finnick was shooting the camera a dazzling smile.

Bex felt her nostrils flare. He was at a _Reaping_ and he was _smiling_. How could he even force it onto his lips?

Caesar turned back to face the audience. "As for his tribute partner, Mags has been a beloved mentor for years. She volunteered at the Reaping for another Victor, Annie Cresta, and we commend her for her constant bravery and selflessness. Back in her Games, she was also skilled in water, fish hooks, and catching other tributes in nets."

Mags was an elderly woman who had seen better days, not equipped to survive the Games. But she still volunteered for Annie Cresta. Bex could only assume that this had to be the same Annie that Finnick tried to pursue. But he couldn't. He'd been robbed of love because of this terrifying world they'd been thrust into. What was the point of winning the Hunger Games when every day they had a new game of play?

Bex felt like her head was spinning. Caesar opened his mouth to introduced the tributes from District Five, but Bex shut the TV off before she could hear anything else. The projection fizzled out until her room was only lit by the sun. The large windowpane that led to the balcony on her right allowed a gracious amount of daylight, almost warming one side of her face.

She closed the curtains and engulfed herself in the darkness. Bex didn't want the sun right now; she just wanted everything to stop spinning. No one was safe anymore. Not her, not Finnick, not even a Victor as old as Mags. She wanted to sleep the day away and not have to face reality until she had to.

The darkness enveloped her like a warm blanket. She welcomed it, curling her arms around a pillow and snapping her eyes shut. Her mind settled; her worries floated away. Bex found comfort in her dreams, where nobody – not even President Snow – could hurt her.


	19. COURAGE AND SACRIFICE

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER NINETEEN

#####  **__________________________**

**DRAGGING** herself out of the bed the next morning was harder than she imagined.

Bex tossed the sheets off to the side. She didn't remember getting under the covers at all during the night, but somehow that happened. She was still in her clothes from yesterday too. A huff resonated from her lips as she padded over to the large window, yanking the curtains to the side. The sunlight hit her immediately and she squinted before looking down, just below her balcony. A group of Capitol citizens gathered together outside the Training Center. They all held up signs indicating which Victors they were rooting for. Bex's upper lip curled in disgust before shutting the curtains.

The TV in the main living area was almost blasting at full volume. Bex walked out of her bedroom and was instantly welcomed by Caesar's annoying laughter, along with his friend, Claudius Templesmith. Nico sat in front of the television with a bored expression. She looked at the projection with an arched brow before turning to her team. Some were already sat at the dining table. Johanna motioned for the blue-haired Avox to pour her more black coffee as her eyes met Bex's. With a scowl, she said, "Guess I was wrong about see you later. Where have you been?"

"Sleeping," Bex muttered, rubbing at her eyes. She slowly padded over to the spot across from Phoenix at the table. He sipped at a cup of tea gingerly. "I thought it was obvious."

"It _was_ ," Johanna quipped, stuffing a piece of French toast with purple syrup in her mouth. "Nico and I have been working together on our own."

Phoenix rolled his eyes as Nico turned off the TV and sat down at the other head of the table. The Capitol escort picked apart a berry tart and muttered, "With _my help_ , as well."

"Details, details," she replied.

"The tributes are really strong this year, Bex. I remember some of them from Games even before mine." Nico explained when Bex looked over at him. She cut into her own plate of pancakes and plopped a piece in her mouth. "But I guess that's a given," he said while sipping his coffee, "they're all Victors."

Johanna's glare was pinned on Bex again. "If you feel well enough, _Bex_ , maybe we can finally discuss allies together?"

Bex ripped through another slice of her pancakes and muttered, "Why not."

But Johanna already began to talk over her: "I'm sure you both saw Caesar's broadcast last night. It only ran about five times because that guy can't get enough of seeing himself."

Nico and Bex nodded at the same time, but the female tribute decided to not mention that she didn't watch the whole thing. Johanna was already in a horrid mood this morning. She didn't want to make it worse, though it was tempting.

"Who are you two thinking about?" Johanna implored. "Of course, we still have a long way to go. We'll make official statements for allies after the three training days. But do you guys have any thoughts on first impressions?"

Nico opened his mouth, but he was interrupted by Bex. Whatever he was about to say would be the exact opposite of Bex's point. She loved Nico, she did, but he hadn't experienced the Games in years. Bex was a bit more recent, and Johanna even more so. Bex's own confidence assured her that she had better judgment.

"Beetee from District Three is incredibly smart," Bex began, "and I believe that we need that on our side. Brains can go a long way in the Games, not just killing. Three is overlooked even though it's surrounded by Career Districts, because it doesn't normally produce physically fit tributes. Combining our strength with his brains would be a wise move, and something people wouldn't see coming."

Johanna's expression pinched. "He's kind of ... old though."

Bex frowned. "Are you serious?"

"I'm just saying. But I'll make a note of it." Johanna plucked her favorite tablet from the table and typed it in her current list. She looked up from the bright screen. "Anyone else?"

Again, Nico opened his mouth, but Bex beat him to it: "There's also the newcomers, Katniss and Peeta. They're Capitol favorites, just like the rest of us. People love them because they provide romance and drama. Having them on our side could provide us some good sponsors."

Johanna cocked her head to the side with a smirk, her voice sarcastically sweet as she asked, "Are they loved almost as much as the Flower Girl?" She tapped another bullet point into her tablet.

Bex's eyes formed into slits, but she continued to cut into her breakfast.

While her mouth was chewing, Nico finally took his shot to suggest someone. "Hey – uh – I have an idea. What about Finnick Odair, the guy from Four? His female tribute would be an easy kill and having him on our side would be great."

Bex blinked and shared a look with Johanna. Their eyes softened before Bex looked away, deciding not to comment.

She felt bad for doubting him. Nico knew the Games just as well as she did, but he wasn't cunning or ruthless anymore. He didn't have to be. While Bex was off selling herself in the Capitol after the Games, Nico continued to stay in his home, closed off from society. She didn't know how he was going to survive this, but she needed to help him. And believing he was helpful was a good place to start.

His idea was good. So good that it had her heart pumping wildly. Bex didn't know what she was going to do once she saw _him_.

Ignoring was probably her best option to save both their asses.

Johanna cleared her throat, disrupting Bex's thought process. "I think we should definitely consider that."

A cup of coffee was placed in front of Bex. Steam wafted into her nose. She lifted her hand to thank the Avox, but her eyes met the same ones from yesterday and she suddenly couldn't speak. Her mouth wobbled, but words failed her. The Avox stayed frozen for longer than usual, and Bex noticed the tiny dyed curl that stuck up in the back of their head, the familiar sharp cheekbones, and the dimples.

And then, she saw the gold reflected in their chocolate stare. That was when Bex knew.

This Avox was no stranger.

Bex stood from her chair, obtaining her team's attention. Their eyes slid to her, but she didn't notice them. Her stare couldn't leave the Avox's, and her mouth was suddenly opening. The name, _Angelo_ , threatened to fall from her chapped lips as she reached out to grab his hand –

But he was already running away, back to his post in the kitchen.

Bex's throat went dry. She stopped the tears that gathered in her waterline and rubbed at her nose. When she quickly sat back in her seat, no one said a word. What could they exactly say? There was nothing to explain what might've just happened, and Bex tried to control the shaking of her body as memories of Angelo played over and over again in her head.

That was him. It had to be. Bex didn't have a doubt. But he wasn't the same Angelo. This one had no tongue, no life in his eyes. Angelo Clevver was practically dead.

Johanna looked from Bex and then to the kitchen, understand growing in her eyes. She didn't say a word, too afraid to speak the truth.

#####  **__________________________**

Iliana arrived only an hour later, a shiny, new wig planted on her head. Bex was used to her bright hair, but this wig was more of a dull green color with hints of gold and yellow, reminding her of a mossy forest. She guessed it was to show her appreciation for District Seven, but her yellow and blue dress hardly reflected that notion. Regardless, Iliana was a welcome sight, a distraction from Bex's current predicament.

"It's time to take you both to the Remake Center!" Iliana exclaimed as she popped through the door. "Bex's visit shouldn't be too bad. Just a touching up. But it's been a while for you, Nico. Are you ready to fix that snaggle tooth?" She chuckled heartily. Nico didn't respond back.

Bex looked over her shoulder as she passed the threshold of her room. Angelo was nowhere to be seen. She wouldn't be surprised if he tried hiding from her now, and that was probably a good thing. Bex was rattled by the revelation, but she knew she couldn't speak to him about it in public. It was too dangerous and she didn't want a worse fate for him.

Snow did this to punish her. She resisted him, she didn't bow down to his every word once, and this was the result. He took someone she loved and ruined them. This was the third person to receive this fate at her hands. First her mom, then her dad, and now Angelo. Bex couldn't let there be a fourth victim.

She just wanted to do something to make things right, even though there was nothing that could undo what had been done. She couldn't give him back his tongue. She couldn't give him back his life. This was all _her fault_.

Bex sucked in her tears as she laid on the cold steel table in the Remake Center. She forgot how freezing this place was, or the yelps of pain that erupted in the air from their poking and prodding. Nico hissed from his spot just a few feet from her. Three Capitol elite members surrounded her, grazing her skin with gloved fingers, and looking for imperfections. One of them wiped away a tear that slid down her cheek.

"Don't worry. There will be no pain," he said. "Only a few things need to be fixed before showtime."

He didn't know that she wasn't crying because of pain, but his voice was still soothing. Bex relaxed against the cold steel as they began to work.

The small team did very little. They scrubbed her skin for at least thirty minutes, getting off every last bit of grime. Bex thought she did a pretty good job of doing this herself in the shower, but it was clearly not enough. Her skin needed to glow. The team also polished her teeth to perfection and made sure they were whiter than paper. Bex's teeth had been straightened and whiten during her first Games. Her first visit to the Remake Center took hours because of her teeth. She never received proper dentistry in Seven due to the cost, but the Remake Center made her look like she had been going her whole life.

"Done," the man had said, ripping off his latex gloves. His team smiled with delight as Bex bared her teeth for them. "Good as new."

Bex wanted to exclaim that she had looked fine before, but these people were not her enemy. Like her, they were part of a system. And Iliana appeared at her side before she could say something stupid.

She followed her stylist down the hall, heading for the dressing rooms on the second floor of the Remake Center. When she looked over her shoulder, Bex noticed Nico heading in the opposite direction with Iliana's assistants. She exhaled softly and allowed Iliana to lead the way with her excessively-high heels. The stylist held open a door for her that had her name printed on it in bold, golden letters.

Iliana dressed her in ... somewhat of a mess of a dress. Her stylist had been creating and presenting some pretty spectacular outfits lately, but Bex realized that she had to go back to her old ways for the Tribute Parade. The ridiculousness always came out for it. In fact, it wasn't until last year, when Cinna had become a stylist, that District Twelve didn't have their tributes dressed in _actual coal_.

But Iliana's dress was pretty. She'd give her that sentiment. The dress' corset was made of a shimmer fabric that almost resembled bark: brown with hints of silver and gold flecked across the top. The corset was low-cut, enough to make her chest to appear two-times its size. The skirt was green and looked like moss, and was layered with a sparkly green netting fabric, which was also placed underneath her corset. The brown boots on her feet had the same silver and gold specks on the leather. Iliana also added small pieces of fake moss along her collarbone and bare arms, and Bex wasn't sure if she could see small flowers growing from it or if her own eyes were deceiving her.

Her hair flowed down her back in delicate ringlets, but the top of her head was wrapped in a crown of braids, small leaves and flowers woven into it. As Bex fidgeted in Iliana's salon chair, her stylist began to get to work on her makeup. She feathered her brows out, unfurling them to the edges. Bex thought she looked like a bird when she caught a glance in the mirror. Iliana then added a sparkly, yellow shadow to the corner of her eyes, while the rest of the lid was covered in both matte and shimmering greens and blacks. Somehow, the vivid colors didn't overpower the outfit, but Bex guessed the dress did a fine job of that on its own.

"Last but not least," Iliana cooed, spinning her chair around for Bex to face the mirror. The stylist brought her hands out from behind her back and placed an iridescent bark tiara in the middle of her braids. She clapped and smiled at her work.

Bex met her eyes in the mirror. "It's beautiful, Iliana," she said, and she wasn't lying. While the whole getup was a tad ridiculous, Iliana always made it work somehow. The crown resting on the top of her head was stunning, a perfect way to top off the outfit.

She stood from the chair, wobbling a bit as her boots hit the floor. The heels were atrocious and she didn't have time to break them in. Iliana looked her up and down, admiring her work, until she caught a glint of something on Bex's hand. The tribute tried pulling away at first, but Iliana lifted her fingers, studying the ring. The emerald in the middle of the band gleamed. Iliana's brows shot up.

"You can't have this on," she said, despite her own surprise. Iliana began to slip the ring off, but Bex quickly snatched her hand away, brows knitting together.

" _No_ ," Bex snapped. She placed that hand behind her back. "It's my good luck charm."

Iliana placed her hands on her hips, raising an intimidating brow. Bex didn't budge and fiddled with the ring behind her. She wouldn't let her take this away.

"Well, alright," Iliana sighed, giving up the fight. Her heels clicked towards the door and she held it open with her hip, jerking with her chin for Bex to head out. "It's time to leave. I'll meet you at the Parade Center."

Bex's heels delayed her running, but she hustled forward. A car with a large _7_ painted on the side waited for her outside the Training Center. She needed the driver's help to get inside. It took almost five minutes, but they were off as soon as she was safely settled in the back. The driver headed for the heart of the city where the parade was taking place. The Parade Center was a large, stone awning built a mile before the Capitol's Justice Building, just for the purpose of the Games. The structure was so old that Bex was surprised it hadn't collapsed already.

There were several lines of traffic leading up to the Parade Center, but Bex managed to make it just five minutes short of starting. Chariots were already waiting inside the awning, decked out with each District's symbols and industry themes, all being led by large Clydesdale horses. Bex found Nico already waiting in the chariot when she arrived. He raised his arms, silently asking where she'd been, but Bex waved him off and stepped up on the chariot. It was decorated with moss, bark, and white roses, both real and made of paper.

Nico was dressed similarly to her. He wore a dress shirt in dark forest green with patches of moss crawling up his arms. His boots looked the same as hers. He also sported a matching vest and pant set made from the same bark fabric as Bex's corset. No crown sat on his head, but unlike Bex, he wore a single white rose growing from a patch of moss on his vest pocket.

"You look great, Bex. But I imagine this wood fabric is just as uncomfortable for you as it is for me." Nico knocked a fist against his vest, and to her surprise, a harsh knock resonated. Bex hadn't noticed how lifelike the fabric was, due to the corset synching her in so tightly.

She tapped the corset with her fist. "Damn, you're right."

The horses were getting restless. They had three minutes until showtime. The crowd was already as loud as can be. Bex debated on asking someone for earplugs, but that would mean not hearing whatever lackluster speech President Snow was going to give, and they _couldn't_ have that.

Her eyes swept over the Parade Center, studying each of the Victors with precision. Cashmere and Gloss waited at the front of the line, adorning outfits that looked like they were made from pure crystal. Brutus and Enobaria were dressed like galactic warriors, while Beetee and Wiress' outfits were fashioned with gears and an iridescent fabric that could practically blind someone in the light. Behind them, Mags stood on the chariot alone, gray and silver hair pinned up around her head, dressed in a glittering blue tunic with gold fishing net wrapped around it. Finnick was nowhere to be found. Bex swallowed hard.

She turned her head to look over the other tributes around her. Many were still struggling to hop up on their chariots. She caught Cecelia's eye, though, as she stood anxiously next to her tribute partner, Woof, who was one of the oldest Victors next to Mags. Bex's heart burned to see Cecelia there, all dressed in black with white wires curling along her shoulders. She always had a soft spot for her. Cecelia was a mother who loved her children, and she had to leave them time and time again for her business with the Capitol. But now, Bex wasn't sure if she'd see her family again.

Her stare moved to the left, and Bex couldn't stop herself from gawking at who was standing in front of Katniss Everdeen. Even from a far distance, she'd know him anywhere. Finnick Odair turned from Katniss and walked away with a smirk planted on his face, but it was his outfit – _or lack thereof_ – that had Bex's mouth dropping.

He wore a gold fishing net – similar to the fabric on Mags – but the netting was wrapped around his muscled arms and strategically knotted at his groin. His favorite shark tooth necklace also hung off his neck. He was as close as you could get to naked, but not _technically_ , solidifying his role as the Capitol's most desired sex symbol. The more they could see of Finnick, the better. They loved their Golden Boy.

And they loved Bex too, but she would never imagine Iliana dressing her like that. Her corset, however, wasn't doing her any favors with that argument.

Their eyes met as he got closer to her chariot. The smirk on his lips vanished and Bex's mouth sealed into a tight line. She wanted to say something; she _knew_ she should. But she couldn't. And definitely, not now, in front of everyone. He was already passing by her chariot and walking away, the fishing net hiding just enough of his backside. 

Bex bit onto her bottom lip and looked away from Finnick as he stood beside Mags on his chariot. He then turned to look at Bex over his shoulder, but she was too busy nodding towards her tribute partner to notice.

The infamous parade music began, and without warning, the horses moved forward. Bex held onto Nico's hand for balance. District One's chariot led them all out of the Parade Center and into the glistening sun of the Capitol. The crowds seemed to get bigger every year. Capitol citizens lined the streets, waving flags, holding up signs, cheering so loud that they could outmatch the music pounding in their ears. Musicians were placed in front of them every ten feet, banging on large drums with batons. Bex squinted as the sun pierced her eyes and roses flew in her direction.

The Justice Building got closer and closer up ahead, but the shouting didn't cease. Bex held onto Nico tighter and raised their hands, earning screams of approval from the audience. She looked around. They waved in her direction, raised their hands. They looked like they were losing their minds. "FLOWER GIRL!" They chanted along with the sound of the drums. Bex almost forgot how exhilarating this felt, as much as she hated to admit it.

Upon placing her hand on one side of the chariot, Bex noticed the flowers growing around her fingers. Both real and paper roses began to move and blossom down the sides of her chariot, tangling with each other, dazzling the crowd. Even more roses bloomed from the moss patches on her collarbones and arms. Bex almost didn't believe her eyes. Nico laughed at her surprise and continuing waving at the crowd.

The chariots approached the Justice Building and moved in a circle in front of President Snow's podium. Bex lifted her free hand at the right moment and caught a single white rose thrown her way. She viewed down at it and swallowed, but kept that hand in the air. These citizens would do anything for a sliver of attention from the Victors. She was a prize here, and she had to remember that always.

Bex met Snow's stare up above as her chariot passed. His lips curled into a sinister smile, but she didn't return the sentiment. Instead, she tilted her rose in his direction. It could be either seen as a challenging action or one of admiration. She'd let him decide.

The chariots finally halted in place before the podium. The first four Districts lined together in the front, while the remaining eight formed side-by-side in back of them. When Bex viewed to her right, she noticed Katniss and Peeta's outfits were on fire, which had become a famous addition to their stylist's clothing choices. Caesar Flickerman must be clapping for joy from wherever he was hosting.

President Snow waved to the crowd before bowing his head towards the tributes. The crowd and music came to an immediate hush.

"Welcome, welcome," he said into the mic. The rose on his lapel was as pure and delicate as the one in Bex's hand. "Victors, we welcome you. We salute your courage and your sacrifice during this very special Quarter Quell."

The crowd cheered. Snow's eyes scanned the tributes below, and his lips hinted at a smirk. Bex's grip on her rose went tense.

"We wish you a happy Hunger Games," he continued with a wink. "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

The Capitol clapped along with their President as the chariots turned around and headed back into the Parade Center. Confetti and flowers rained down on the tributes, but it all went unnoticed when Bex looked back at the white rose in her hand. Blood oozed from her palm. The thorns had pricked her after forming her hand into a fist. Bex wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't glanced down. The blood trickled onto her boot.

She hadn't felt a thing.


	20. A FLAW IN THE SYSTEM

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER TWENTY

#####  **__________________________**

**THE** horses stopped short in the same order they came in. Waiting at their spot was the District Seven team, all clapping their hands on a job well done. Nico jumped from the chariot first before helping Bex down, which then turned into _everyone_ helping her due to the constriction of Iliana's chosen outfit. "If you can't move in it, then it's _high fashion_ ," Iliana said when Bex complained.

"Maybe I'm just not equipped for high fashion then," she replied once her feet were on the ground, earning a cackle from Nico.

"I beg to differ," the stylist argued, waving a paper fan in Bex's direction. "You two just _ruled_ that parade! I'm so proud of both of you. That'll show the Capitol that Cinna isn't the only stylist that can make things happen." She added with a snooty huff.

Nico pointed to the chariot with his thumb. "Did you guys plan for that to happen? With the moving flowers?"

"Making the paper flowers blossom was easy," Phoenix explained. "Sprinkling in a little Capitol magic here and there can create wondrous things. The real roses, however, were flown in from an experimental farm in District Eleven, specializing in flowers made for Capitol events. These were all made just for you."

Bex lifted a brow. They had really gone above and beyond. Ever since Cinna and the District Twelve team made a statement in last year's Games, everyone was working their hardest to one-up them, including hers. Bex never would've thought in all her years that other Districts would try to compete with Twelve.

But Katniss Everdeen had sent out quite a spark, enough to have them all rattling.

"You guys did great," Johanna replied honestly before shooting a glare in Iliana's direction. " _Much_ better than what I was forced to wear in my parade."

Iliana rolled her eyes. "We didn't have as much stiff competition then."

"Uh-huh." The mentor turned back to the older tributes before her, crossing her arms over her chest. "We should leave now and talk about the first training session tomorrow. Lots of sleep is needed."

Phoenix typed something into his touch-screen watch and faced his team. "We need to take the elevator in the Parade Center up a few flights to get to the garage. There's a private car waiting there to take us back to our living quarters."

"Great," Iliana clapped, placing a hand on Nico's back and guiding him forward.

Striding up to one of the horses, Bex said towards the rest of her team, "I'm going to stay behind for a minute. Gather my bearings. I'll meet you guys there."

They all nodded, but Bex couldn't help but notice the worried glance Johanna cast in her direction. It only lasted for a mere second, and her mentor reverted back to her usual scowl, sauntering to the elevator with Phoenix. Bex exhaled softly and turned to one of the Clydesdale horses. Its mane was pure black, while the rest of its fur was a rich, dark brown. The horse's eyes were distant, even as Bex brushed her hands over its long nose.

"Are you the same horse I had years ago?" She whispered, stroking softly. It was hard to tell. All of the horses looked the same every year. Bex viewed up at the animal and bit her lip hard, wonder if the Capitol killed off the horses every year too, just like their tributes.

She pursed her lips. "You deserve to be free. We all do."

The horse didn't reply. Bex gave it one last pat before venturing towards the elevator. As she struggled to make the short walk in her heels, she looked to the side and saw Finnick and Mags surrounded by their team. Instead of paying attention, Finnick's eyes were pinned on her, and he didn't dare to break contact once she saw him. Bex swallowed hard and began to hustle towards the elevator, eager to escape him.

He might try to talk to her if they ever got alone, and that was the last thing they should be doing in the Capitol. She couldn't talk to him – not now, maybe not ever – in fear that she would say too much, or she would miss his laugh all over again.

Bex punched the button to go up and the elevator doors opened immediately. She picked up her dress, walked inside, and pressed the button to the top floor. A breath of relief escaped her lips as she leaned back against the crystalline walls of the elevator. The doors inched closed.

But then a hand stopped them, pushing the doors open so he could shove himself in.

Bex refused to look at Finnick as she pressed herself against the wall. The elevator surprisingly felt smaller with only them inside. Finnick looked to his feet as he stood beside her, elbow brushing against hers. He pressed the button for the top floor again and the doors sealed shut.

They didn't utter a word to each other. The elevator seemed to move slower than usual.

Bex gripped the railing behind her, panic imploding in her stomach. She felt his stare burning into her, and she cursed herself for letting her own curiosity get the best of her. Bex's dark gaze met his sea-green irises, and she was done for. _Completely done for._

"Bex," he began, voice as soft as silk.

She tried not to let temptation control her, but it was almost too enticing to look him down. _No_ , she had to keep focus. Temptation would ruin her. And yet ... she couldn't help but breathe in his citrus scent, luring her back in.

"I'm sorry you're here," Finnick continued, causing Bex to blink and bring herself back. "I saw that you volunteered for Johanna. And I know you're scared about your brother and all –"

"Finnick, this is awkward enough," she sighed, watching the numbers on the screen go up and up.

His eyes narrowed. "I just want you to talk to me."

"Well, we can't exactly do _that_ ," she retorted. "Especially, not here."

"Fine," he muttered, an edge to his tone.

The doors opened, revealing the open parking garage. A line of cars were parked near the exit, and Bex eyed the sleek black one her team was currently cramming themselves into. She picked up her dress once again and walked out. But temptation always won her over, and she found herself looking over her shoulder at Finnick as he walked to his own car.

"See you tomorrow, Flower Girl," he smirked. "Meet you at the fishhook station."

#####  **__________________________**

Bex grimaced as soon as she and Nico arrived for training the next day. The male from District Six, one of the Morphlings, was puking all over the first platform at the Gauntlets course. The large gymnasium already reeked of sweat, and now drug-induced vomit. Bex frowned and took a few steps into the Training Center with Nico. A couple of tributes were eyeing them maliciously.

Gloss from District One glared in her direction. Bex had hardly spoken a word to him, but the first time she met him, Gloss made quite a spectacle over her being friendly with his sister. He told Cashmere that they didn't associate with people from Seven, and considering the deadly scowl he was giving her right now, Bex could only assume he still thought that way.

Today was about making allies, even though some tributes didn't even bother to show up. Victors were cocky human beings. They probably thought training was a nuisance because they were already winners, but they would get a rude awakening once they entered the arena. Bex and Nico discussed all the tributes with their team last night. It seemed that a majority of the Victors Johanna said not to worry about were the exact same people that weren't present.

Bex blew out a sigh. "Remember: show your skills as much as you can. Talk around. But don't associate with One and Two. They're probably planning our deaths as we speak."

"I know, I know, Bex," Nico said while rolling his eyes. "I _am_ older than you."

She chuckled and walked away from him. As she neared the shelter-making course, Bex tossed her head and said to Nico, "But who's smarter?"

Venturing further into the gym, Bex eyed the idle trainers lingering by each course. Their stares were cool and withdrawn, as if they were programmed robots. She wouldn't be surprised if that was true. There were fewer trainers than usual, most being replaced by holographic targets at each course. Looking up, Bex watched the Gamemakers eat and chat from their apartment above. They laughed heartily, acting like nothing was going on down below. Except for Plutarch Heavensbee, of course, who peered down at the tributes circling around the gymnasium. His eyes locked with Bex's and he smiled. She didn't return it.

Bex scanned the room and observed the other tributes. Enobaria was competing with her District Two partner, Brutus, at the spear station. They were trying to see how many targets they could hit with one spear. Peeta Mellark hesitantly watched from behind, waiting his turn. Nico headed for the camouflage station, where the two District Six tributes were now painting rock disguises on their skin. The male looked a bit shaken with sickness, but he still regarded Nico as if they were friends. Chaff and Seeder of District Eleven were calmly building together at the hammock-making section. Cecelia was currently trying to make a snare at the knot-tying station, while Cashmere and Gloss dominated the knife-wielding course.

As Cashmere balanced the point of a knife on her palm, she looked over her shoulder at Bex. She sent her a sad smile before turning back to her brother and propelling the knife forward. Her weapon hit multiple moving targets.

Bex turned around and walked in the opposite direction. Up ahead, she noticed Beetee and Wiress at the fire-starting station, struggling to break a long, thick stick of wood. Despite being the two smartest tribute in the Quell, they looked terribly perplexed. Bex exhaled softly and walked over to them, reaching out a hand. "Would you two like some help?"

The District Three tributes viewed up, but neither of them responded. Beetee pushed his black-rimmed glasses higher on his nose. He hesitated before handing Bex the stick. She smiled – and it was _friendly_ , something she had always been told she struggled with at Capitol galas. Placing the stick on her knee, Bex pushed down and split the piece in two, handing Beetee the shorter stick. She tossed the other piece to the side and knelt down.

Today was about creating alliances, but she wasn't sure if Johanna would approve of the one she was currently trying to make.

"I've been splitting wood for years," Bex muttered, kneeling beside Wiress.

"Then perhaps you could teach us how to start a decent fire with matches," Beetee replied coolly. He stabbed the stick into a wooden log.

She shrugged. "I'm not used to igniting a fire like this. Sorry if I'm not a lot of help."

Wiress giggled, "You breaking the piece was help enough, dear."

"We just need to think of it this way." Beetee twisted the stick and rubbed his hands up and down, trying to create friction between the two pieces of wood. Smoke emerged, but not enough. "Friction generates heat. Heat generates fire. _In theory_ , that is."

"You should move your hands downward."

The three tributes looked up and saw Katniss Everdeen standing above them. None of them moved or said a word. Sensing the awkwardness, Katniss motioned with her hands what Beetee should be doing. "And faster too," she added, sitting next to Bex.

Beetee arched a brow, but still followed her directions. He moved his hands down while pummeling the stick into the log. His action were faster, and more smoke materialized until a tiny flame grew before them.

Wiress gasped, "A little brute force –"

"– Is always helpful," Beetee finished before turning to Katniss. "Thanks for the tip."

Katniss bowed her head. She got to her knees, trying to stand, but Wiress pushed down on her shoulder. "By the corner of the table," she whispered, viewing up.

The other tributes followed her line of vision. She was staring at the Gamemakers watching them. Plutarch examined the gym while the rest of his friends continued with their party.

"Plutarch?" Bex asked. "He's Head Gamemaker."

"No, next to him," Wiress said, rubbing at her already-red nose.

Beetee lifted his glasses and squinted. A smile pulled at the edges of his cracked lips. "Ah, force field."

Katniss' expression twisted. She studied the Gamemakers' apartment further. "How do you know?"

"The shimmering," Beetee answered. "Top left-hand side. Look. _There_."

Beetee tilted Katniss' head as Wiress did the same for Bex. After narrowing her eyes, she was able to see it: _the shimmering_. It looked like glass if you kept staring. Bex couldn't stop. Plutarch's stare connected with hers again, causing her to blink and turn away immediately.

"You see it?" Beetee asked.

"Far too well," Bex replied. "But why?"

Wiress' voice turned grave. "To separate us and them."

"Probably my fault," Katniss huffed. "I shot an arrow at them last year."

Beetee continued to study the force field with precision. "Hmm ... electromagnetic. It's all electromagnetic."

Katniss cocked her head. "How can you tell?" The two District Three tributes shared a look and began to laugh. Bex's mouth went dry. "Is it obvious or something?"

Wiress giggled along, "They might as well have a sign."

"Look around you," Beetee instructed, and Bex casually turned her head around the room. "All the holograms, the lights – every now and then they flicker. Why?"

Bex eyed every station. Beetee was right. The holographic targets fizzled out every now and then. The lights flickered two at a time. But each instance only lasted for a second, not long enough for the untrained eye to notice.

"The force field is taking up too much energy," Katniss realized.

Beetee was grinning at both of them when Bex spun back to face him. "There's always a flaw in the system." He viewed between the two young Victors. "Thank you both for the help."

Bex simply nodded before getting to her feet and waving goodbye. She turned and walked forward, finding Nico with Peeta at the axe station. It looked like he was trying to teach him, but Nico had hardly lifted an axe in years. She wouldn't get in his way, though. Bex could wait and train there tomorrow.

But then, Katniss was in front of her, hands laced behind her back. Bex lifted a brow. Katniss spoke up before she could say anything, "I heard you're good with an axe."

Bex crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm okay."

"Haymitch says otherwise," she replied quickly. "He says you're good. Really good."

Her mentor – Haymitch Abernathy. Bex had never spoken to him, but he'd certainly educated his tributes well.

"Well, _Haymitch_ –" Bex paused, finding Mags and Finnick where he said they'd be today: the fishhook station. She licked her lips and faced Katniss. "– Needs to mind his own _business_."

She tried to move past Katniss, but the Girl on Fire was persistent. It was a little confusing. Bex assumed she wouldn't want allies, but Katniss still grabbed her arm. "Can you teach me?" She asked, more politely. Bex didn't expect that tone from her. "Or at least show me the ropes. I can help you in return."

Bex met Finnick's eyes from across the room. He smiled.

"Maybe," she finally replied. Picking allies was very similar to attracting someone's attention at a Capitol party. You always had to keep them wanting more. Bex stepped around her. "I'll think about it. Find me tomorrow."

Katniss nodded. Bex hesitantly stepped towards the fishhook station. Her palms became sweaty all of a sudden. It wasn't smart to talk to him – especially with all the Gamemakers watching, especially with Plutarch's keen eyes. But she did it anyway. Her conscious was belligerent. She ignored it and continued to walk over. This was to help her in the Games, _not_ for Finnick.

She wanted to scoff at her own lies.

Bex laid her hands flat on the steel table and smiled down at Mags while she worked. "I heard someone here could teach me a mean fishhook."

Mags lifted her head, eyeing Bex with confusion. She looked to Finnick and mumbled something under her breath. Bex heard she didn't talk very much, and when she did, it was usually a series of whispers. Probably due to a medical condition, like a past stroke.

Finnick grinned from ear-to-ear and laid a gentle hand on Mags' shoulder. He gestured to Bex. "Mags, I'd like to introduce you to Bex Nassar from District Seven. She's a ..."

"Good friend," Bex finished, one side of her mouth curling. Finnick rolled his eyes. "We're pretty good friends. It's nice to meet you, Mags. You're incredibly brave for what you did at the Reaping."

Mags smiled softly. She lifted a small hand and urged her to come over. Bex obliged, running to the elderly woman's side. She was already twisting together an intricate fishhook. It looked like art, like it belonged in a museum. Mags was known to make a fishhook out of anything, but Bex didn't expect them to be so pretty.

She felt Finnick's eyes on her back and glanced at him from over her shoulder. With a furrowed brow, he mouthed, _Are we okay?_

Bex didn't know how to respond to that. The Gamemakers' deadly glares were pinned on all of them. So she stayed quiet, but still offered Finnick a kind smile.


	21. THE UNDERDOGS

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

#####  **__________________________**

**BEX** woke up with her arms wrapped around herself, as if she was waiting for someone to hold her. It was a miracle in itself that she managed to get sleep while her imminent death was weighing down on her. The duvet pulled above her head acted as a shield from the approaching sun and allowed her to enjoy whatever dream she was having. It clearly had to do with being held tightly. However, she didn't get to enjoy it for as long as she hoped, because someone began to smack a pillow on her head.

"Ow! Ow!" Bex screamed, shoving the person off. She looked up to see Johanna with a beaded pillow in her hands, back hitting the wall. Her survival instinct had taken over. Bex didn't mean to push her that hard, but Johanna didn't look phased. As always.

Johanna chucked the pillow on the carpet. "Get dressed and be at the Training Center in fifteen. It's not the time to sleep in."

She had become quite the mentor. Bex didn't realize she had it in her. When they mentored together in the Capitol, she usually left Bex to deal with the important things, like acquiring sponsors and speaking with other mentors. But Johanna was on her own now, and she was tough, strong-willed, and stubborn. She was definitely harsher than Bex as a mentor. It was a good thing, though, and she was learning more every day. Johanna was finally dedicated to studying the politics of mentorship.

Bex and Nico headed down to the gymnasium together again. They separated as soon as they arrived, but shared a knowing glance before departing. It was another day for making allies. Neither of them told Johanna who they were considering. They might have to tonight so she could talk to the other mentors, but she wasn't going to like it. Last night, Bex sat down with Nico and listed off everyone she spoke to yesterday, explaining why they could be a potential ally. Nico, on the other hand, said that he spoke to Cecelia and she seemed up to an alliance, as long as Katniss Everdeen was involved. That statement puzzled Bex a bit, but she guessed that all the Victors wanted to be tied to the Girl on Fire. She was a key to getting sponsors this year.

Although Bex had no doubt in her mind that the Quell would end in her death, she was still hopeful for allies. She wanted to find people who were with dying for, and she didn't want to just give up as soon as she entered the arena because she knew her demise was near. Bex wasn't like that. She wouldn't give up. She had lost so much to not go down without a fight.

As she walked around the gym, Bex noticed there were even fewer tributes today. None of the Careers were culminating by the weapons rack. Tributes from Districts Eight through Ten were nowhere to be seen. Even the morphling duo from Six weren't puking their guts up in the corner. The Training Center was basically empty.

This could be a good thing, though. It gave Bex more room to branch out, discover new training stations, and find serious alliances. Everyone who bothered to show up today was proving to be a good choice.

The knot-tying course was completely empty. Bex walked over and kneeled down in the fake grass surrounding the station. A steel table was placed beside the grass with a bunch of different ropes hanging off of it, and also a tablet instructing how to make different kinds of knots. After scrolling through the tablet, Bex reacquainted herself with how to make a snare. From the instructions, it didn't look that hard, but it had been a long time since she even attempted one. It might've even been her first Games. She never had to use a snare trap to catch food in Seven.

Unfortunately, it was definitely harder than it seemed. Bex was attempting a snare that would leave a competitor dangling by their leg, but the one currently in her hands wouldn't even catch a rabbit. A training instructor even came over and offered help, but Bex waved him off and said she could do it on her own. It was a lie. She definitely couldn't do this on her own, but she wouldn't give the Capitol anymore of her time.

She looked up and watched Plutarch scan the room. Some of the Gamemakers were probably laughing at her. "Poor little Flower Girl can't even tie a snare," they were likely saying. Bex rolled her eyes and continued to struggle with the rope.

"Need some help?"

Bex lifted her head and met Katniss' grey stare. Her dark, almost black hair was pulled back into the infamous braid, and despite being so put-together, the bags under her eyes told a different story. Bex scratched the top of her head and weighed the offer. She looked down at her sad excuse for a snare, sitting in the fake soil of the course. It was pitiful. She sighed longingly before turning her head back up to Katniss.

"I do know snares pretty well," the younger tribute added.

Bex arched a brow. "Oh, _do you_?" Her tone was playful, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "I didn't think you'd want allies during the Games. Why are you helping everyone?"

"Contrary to popular belief," Katniss said, replicating Bex's stance, "I want to survive just as much as you do."

Bex shrugged. "Fair enough."

Katniss kneeled down in the grass and picked up Bex's snare. She gave her a fake smile. "This is ..."

"Bad," Bex finished. "You can say it's bad."

The younger girl rubbed at the back of her neck. "Well, yes, it's bad." She set the snare back in the fake dirt and raised a brow. "How about we make a deal? If I help you with snares, you'll help me throw an axe."

Bex blinked a few times. She didn't really expect Katniss to be insistent, but they were all playing a wild game of survival. Katniss needed her help just as much as Bex needed hers. It's funny how impending death can change a person.

"You're very persistent," Bex replied, looking back down at the snare. It looked so sad and lifeless between them. "But that sounds like a good deal to me."

Katniss' snare lesson was somehow more helpful than the detailed step-by-step guide Bex read on the tablet. It took less than thirty minutes for Bex to master the knot tying, and soon enough, she had a snare that could trap a rabbit _and_ a tribute's leg at the same time. Katniss explained how her father taught her how to hunt with snares when she was a child, and then she graduated to hunting with a bow. "Snare-traps made for animals can work just as well for humans," she said in a grave tone. Without meeting Bex's eyes, she looked away and tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear. "I learned that last year."

The two spent another hour at the axe throwing station. Bex showed her technique to Katniss as an example, but made sure to reiterate that chopping wood with an axe is a lot less complicated than killing a target with one. She felt ill even saying it, but Katniss needed to know. This was a normal conversation between two Victors.

Bex didn't feel the need to show off or make a spectacle of herself while teaching the other girl. At the end of yesterday's training day, Katniss had showed her skills with a bow to teach Mags, and she garnered all of the other tributes as an audience. Bex didn't want that, nor did she need it. She was already a Victor. Everyone here knew how deadly she was.

Bex plucked several different axes from the weapons wall for Katniss to try, presenting how each could be used in a distinctive way. "This one has a much larger blade. It would be too heavy to throw, so you would hold it the whole time while charging at another tribute," she held up one axe, set it down, and lifted another. "The blade on this is lighter and could definitely be thrown from a far distance to hit another tribute. Think of it as a larger, disfigured version of a hunting knife." Bex handed this one in particular to Katniss. "I think you'd be suited for it. You're good at killing from a distance."

Katniss sent her a fake smile and took the axe. Bex felt just as uncomfortable with her statement as she did.

They practiced throwing the axe at holographic targets. Beetee's words from yesterday were still fresh – about how the targets flicker and fizzle out – and it was now hard for Bex not to notice. Katniss struggled a lot, but once she began to actually hit the running targets, Bex realized how the projections would crumble and sizzle. Some would disappear into a pile of holographic cubes, eventually flickering out.

Bex turned her head to the Gamemakers' apartment. That force field was doing a lot to protect them. It was taking up all the energy in the gym. They were scared that one of the Victors would try to do something, and perhaps, they were right to feel that way.

Katniss got the hang of it. Her aim was really good and she sliced the targets as if they were made out of butter. "This is really tiring," she said as Bex walked over and picked up the axe she just threw. Katniss flexed her hands. "You don't get as exhausted with a bow."

"Axes are a lot heavier, especially if you're carrying one with a large blade for a long time," Bex said, placing the weapon back on the rack.

Katniss rubbed at her hands and approached Bex from behind. She might've frightened the older tribute if Bex had not heard her footsteps, but Katniss was still quiet. Quieter than she would've liked.

"Thanks for the lesson," Katniss said gently. The usual aggressive tone to her voice had suddenly vanished. But Bex wasn't all-too convinced of her friendliness just yet.

"Thanks for teaching me the snare," Bex replied, watching Katniss turn her head to find Peeta. He was currently laughing along with Chaff from District Eleven at the slingshot course. "You should probably go over there before Peeta accidentally shoots himself in the eye."

Katniss nodded, "You're right." She hesitated for a moment and exhaled another, _Thanks_ , under her breath. Bex hardly caught the reply as Katniss walked away.

When she turned, Bex found Nico at the shelter-making course just a few feet away. He waved for her to come over. Bex strode towards her District partner and cracked her knuckles. Nico was currently making some sort of tent out of large leaves and sticks, but the roof seemed weak. Bex tilted her head to the side as Nico crawled out. Before she could voice her concern, he said, "Girl on Fire seems to like you."

Bex looked over at Katniss, who was now showing Peeta the proper way to handle a slingshot. Chaff chuckled at their banter.

Turning back to Nico, she replied, "I don't know about that. Katniss is very calculative about who she wants to talk to. So far it's been me, Beetee, Wiress, and Mags. You, too – I think – at the camo station. Maybe even some of the Careers, but they refused to acknowledge her."

"Besides the Careers," Nico huffed, getting to his feet and wiping his hands off, "she's approaching the underdogs."

"Are you calling _me_ an underdog?"

Nico smiled.

Bex narrowed her eyes. "Just get back to your leaf house, Cadoc."

#####  **__________________________**

Finnick had performed quite a show for the rest of the tributes at the trident station before the end of the day. It was very clear he was showing off his skills, flexing his muscles for the small crowd. Mags, Katniss, Peeta, and Seeder stood behind the course and watched him attentively. Bex tried to ignore him – though he made it extremely difficult – by occupying herself at the weight-lifting station. She figured it wouldn't hurt to get some muscles back into her arms, and it may have also provided a good distraction from him.

Eventually, his crowd of spectators went away to use the small amount of time they had left in the gym for more important matters. This was when Bex finally looked back over at Finnick, watching him twirl the trident between two hands. She stood up straighter and narrowed her eyes at him. He began to practice his fighting stance. Twirl, and then jab. He turned in the opposite direction and copied the action.

Bex didn't realize she had started to walk over to him until she was standing at the trident station, hands braced on her hips. His technique was quick and threatening, but also a little sloppy. Bex guessed she couldn't judge because she'd never worked with a trident. But she didn't think twirling the weapon and giving the audience a show would help with survival.

Her mouth was moving before she could stop it: "Do you really think a trident is going to be waiting for you at the Cornucopia?"

Finnick halted his movements, turning swiftly in her direction. His face froze up, and then his whole body relaxed. She'd caught him off guard.

Leaning against the trident, Finnick answered, "I can hope."

Her brow shot up. She looked up at him on the mat, weighing the size of the trident. It didn't look too hard to handle. Hoisting herself up onto the elevated platform, Bex said, "Why don't you move out of the way and give other people a shot?"

Mags heard the commotion from where she stood at the knot-tying station. She grinned.

Finnick pointed the weapon in Bex's direction. "You think you can work a trident?"

Bex nodded her head.

"It's heavier than you think," he explained. "More difficult to throw from a distance."

"Shouldn't be as hard as throwing an axe." She shrugged.

He stepped in front of her, drowning in her black stare. With their chests within inches of each other, Finnick muttered, "It is _much_ harder."

Bex held her hand out, wiggling her fingers with anticipation.

Finnick rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said, placing it in her palm, "take it."

The trident fell from his hands and into her grip, and Bex had to stop her feet from giving out. Maybe he had a point. The trident was pretty heavy. But nothing she couldn't handle. She followed Finnick to a spot on the mat, where the holographic target was at least twenty feet away.

"Can you handle that, Flower Girl?" He asked, placing his hands on his hips. His smirk was incredibly daring.

Bex looked over her shoulder for a short moment, noticing Katniss' eyes on her. And Peeta's. And Mag's. She swallowed hard and turned back to Finnick. The smirk hadn't left his lips, but his dimples had now perked up. She exhaled and smiled back. "Of course, I can."

He gestured ahead and stepped back. "Then, by all means."

Bex shifted her position. She put one foot in front of the other, leaning back just a bit. The trident became heavier as she lifted it in the air. She blinked twice, and the holographic target was advancing towards her. Her breath hitched. Her hands got clammy. The trident was weighing down her grip. The target was halfway to her, so she tossed the trident into the air.

It barely skimmed the target's flickering body. Instead, the trident landed in the target's foot, causing it to fall down and explode into tiny cubes.

She could hear Finnick chuckling beneath the pounding in the ears.

Bex tilted her head. That had to be the _worst_ throw she'd ever made. How did _that_ even happen? She's always had incredible aim. This didn't make any sense.

Finnick approached her from behind and whispered in her ear, "Told you."

She jerked away and glared at him. Plutarch's stare was fixated on her. She noticed when she lifted her eyes and her whole body trembled. Even two of the other Gamemakers stood from their comfy chairs and ogled at their conversation.

Finally, Bex's scowl flickered back to Finnick. "Give me the trident again."

He snickered, but walked off to grab the weapon. It swayed from side-to-side. She hadn't stabbed it into the mat that hard – _another_ big mistake. When Bex turned back to face the target, Finnick was walking over to her, trident pointed out for her to take.

"Make sure to actually kill it this time," he quipped.

Bex snatched the trident. "Just get out of the way."

Finnick held his hands up in surrender and walked behind her. He crossed his arms, waiting for her next move.

The target wavered in the air in front of her. It waited for her too. Blowing out a sigh, Bex assumed her fighting stance once again. The hologram sprinted for her, but she didn't see it. Her eyes shut for a moment. She allowed herself to take in a deep breath, and then let it out.

When she opened her eyes again, she launched the trident.

It soared through the air like a bird, spiraling as it headed for the target. Finnick stood up straighter and watched with disbelief. The trident pierced the target's chest instantly, penetrating the mat, and it fizzled out before them.

Finnick raised a brow.

The trident was still securely lodged into the mat.

Bex spun on her heel to face him. "I think I killed it," she said, hands on her hips, "don't you agree?"

He grinned and clapped his hands together. "Completely."

As she tilted her head up, Bex realized Plutarch was clapping too.


	22. THE WEAK CARD

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

#####  **__________________________**

**BEX** was itching to take a shower at the end of her second training day. She wiped the copious amount of sweat on her brow and took the elevator back to her room. The other tributes waiting down in the lobby faded into the size of ants. Nico had left a couple of minutes before Bex, seeing as the Gamemakers weren't exactly being strict with their training. She doubted that the Victors who hadn't shown were getting a slap on the wrist. Back when she was in the Games, they wouldn't have gotten off so easily.

Bex didn't think the Gamemakers even cared anymore. In a way, she didn't blame them. They already turned every single one of them into murderers. What could a little more training do?

When the elevator doors opened and revealed her spacious living quarters, Bex was greeted by Johanna's furrowed brow. She stood in front of Nico, who sat in one of the chairs at the dining table. They both turned to Bex as she stepped into the room. The elevator door shut behind her automatically.

"What's going on?" She asked suspiciously and approached them. Bex still kept her distance though, standing at the other end of the table.

In the kitchen, she noticed a mop of slicked-back blue curls slip away. Her nails pierced the inside of her palm.

Johanna opened her mouth to speak, but Nico was already muttering, "You're not going to like it."

The mentor bit back, "Thanks for the help."

"What won't I like?" Bex's grip on the chair in front of her went tight.

"Plutarch Heavensbee," Johanna said through clenched teeth. "He wants to meet with both of you. _Now_ , preferably."

The two Victors shared a look.

"I just received a message from him before you two arrived," the mentor continued. "Seems urgent."

Bex lifted her chin. "We don't want to talk to him."

Nico shot her a glare and stood up. "That's not for you to decide, Bex."

"Fine, _I_ don't want to talk to him. Better?" Her brow shot up. "He probably helped Snow come up with this idea for the Quarter Quell. And I think he's slimy. No way."

Johanna released a snort. "He's _slimy_?"

"Yes, slimy. As in, I don't trust him." Bex glanced at her District partner. "We're not going to meet him. He'll try to get in our heads and find our weaknesses, so he'll know what to throw at us in the arena."

"I think you two should give him a chance."

Bex's mouth dropped. "Johanna –"

"– And as your official mentor," Johanna's lips curled, "I'm forcing you to go."

Nico stood with hands up in surrender. "Fine with me." He walked over to a frozen Bex and began to haul her out of the living quarters. "I'm not the one that has a problem with it."

Johanna followed them to the elevator. "You'll be meeting him in a private section of the Training Center. Right above the gym."

"Got it, got it," Nico waved her off and continued to shove his partner forward.

Bex spun around to face him once the elevator doors slammed shut behind him. Her top lip curled viciously, but Nico was anything but scared. He looked at her with a blank expression. The elevator waited for someone to press a button. "I think I have a _right_ to have a problem with this. Do you have any idea how conniving Gamemakers are? This is will go terribly wrong."

Nico continued to stare her, arms crossed over his chest.

Her brow furrowed. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

"I was waiting for you to finish," he replied, "so I could remind you, once again, that we are _both_ Victors in this situation. Johanna is too. We all know what we're doing. We know how crafty Gamemakers are. Trust in Johanna's judgment, Bex."

He walked in front of her and pressed the button for the bottom floor. Bex's jaw went tight as she leaned against the wall, looking through the glass. She supposed Nico had a point, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. He stayed silent until the elevator dinged and the doors opened. "Let's go," he said calmly, as if he didn't just undermine her moments ago, and walked out of the elevator.

Instead of walking to the gymnasium, Nico and Bex headed for a private staircase that was blocked by two Peacekeepers. Upon arrival, they were allowed inside, and they traveled up the stairs in complete silence. Bex's eyes went wide once they reached the top. Chairs with fluffy cushions were scattered everywhere. A large TV projection sat at the end of the room, broadcasting statistics for each of the Victors. There was also a long buffet cart situated right at the entrance.

This wasn't just some private room. They were in the Gamemaker's apartment, overlooking the Training Center.

Plutarch sat in the middle of the room, leaning back in a pink chair with pillows made of faux fur. A tiny cup and plate sat in his large hands. He took a sip from the cup before getting to his feet, gesturing for them to walk over.

Bex wanted to scoff. She debated on grabbing Nico's hand and leaving. But he was already walking ahead of her, hand stretched out for Plutarch to take. He was _really_ starting to bother her now. Her teeth began to grind together. But she swallowed down her pride and quickly followed behind.

"Thank you for coming," Plutarch said, looking to both of them with pale eyes.

When he shook Bex's hand, she could've sworn she was staring into Snow's beady irises. She had no doubt they could be the same person. They looked similar, except Plutarch didn't sport the same white beard. His face was puffier and shaved.

Plutarch had set up two chairs for them with a small table placed in the center. Bex's chair was a vivid lime green, while Nico's was a pale peach. On the table were two more small cups, similar to the one in Plutarch's hands, and they were filled with steaming black coffee. Nico took his gratefully and sipped. He then grabbed a few sugar packets from the tray in front of them and sprinkled them in. Bex didn't pick up her cup at all.

"You both had great training sessions today," Plutarch began. "Nico, I was really impressed by your work at the shelter-making station."

Nico sent him a tight-lipped smile. He may have trusted Johanna's judgment, but Bex could tell his guard was up. She hadn't seen him this attentive in years, not even when he was a mentor. "Thank you, sir," he replied evenly.

"And Bex, at the trident station – you showed Finnick Odair exactly what District Seven is made of." Plutarch took a sip of his coffee and wet his lips. "Makes me excited to see what you two will do in the private sessions tomorrow. Have any idea on what you'll be –"

Bex's brow pulled together. "Can we _please_ cut to the chase?"

Nico slowly turned his head to her, looking at Bex as if she were mad. She was anything but. Plutarch lowered his cup.

"What?" She asked, narrowing her gaze. "Did you think we'd be naïve enough to think you didn't have a motive?"

Plutarch's stare didn't waver. "I thought we agreed to talk."

"So _talk_."

Nico rolled his eyes. He debated on leaving and escaping the embarrassment. Despite what he thought, Bex knew facing the situation head-on was the only way to get out of here with their tongues still in their mouths. Gamemakers favored the strong-willed, not the weak. She wouldn't play that card yet, and Nico shouldn't either.

After a long moment, the Gamemaker set his cup of coffee on the table, along with its tiny serving plate. "Can I ask you two a serious question?"

Their echoing silence was the only response he received.

"There's something happening all throughout Panem at the moment. I'm sure you've both felt it." He began, his leg bouncing with anticipation. "The rumblings of a revolution. Do you two know anything about that?"

Bex and Nico shared a look, but their mouths didn't move. She averted her eyes to every corner of the room. She expected to see cameras watching their every move. But they were truly alone with Plutarch. He could do anything to them and no one would know. Her heart jumped in her throat.

Perhaps, she should've played the weak card after all.

"Alright, fine. I'll talk." Plutarch laced his hands together, but his leg didn't stop moving. "Katniss Everdeen is the symbol of an upcoming rebellion. It began the moment she revealed those poison berries in the arena, where she attempted to defy President Snow for the last time. I mean, if a girl from District Twelve – of all places – can defy the Capitol, what's stopping the rest of Panem? Katniss is the people's mockingjay –"

Bex snapped, "And _that_ is the point behind this year's Quarter Quell, _right_? Correct me if I'm wrong."

Nico exhaled, "Bex, _please_ –"

" _No_ , I want an answer. Am I _wrong_?" Her glare cut through the Gamemaker's cold façade. "You want all us former Victors to kill her and show that no Victor is safe. That's what you want."

The room came to a hush. Bex's stare wouldn't leave Plutarch's. Her jaw clenched tight and her eyes were wild with fury. She could feel her nails digging into her palms, creating tiny crescent moons into her skin, but she didn't stop. Not until he answered her. _Hell hath no fury like a Victor scorned._ Plutarch was going to learn what that truly meant if he didn't start talking.

He looked around the room, glancing down at the empty gymnasium below, before turning back to the two tributes.

And finally, he whispered, "I want you to _protect her_."

Bex leaned back then, caught off guard. Nico was frozen in place.

At their silence, Plutarch continued, "Not just you, but others too. I've been speaking to a multitude of tributes."

"Why?" Nico said, all too suddenly. "What does protecting our competitor give us?"

Plutarch paused for a moment, and then replied, "A better tomorrow. A possible way out."

 _Heartbreak, my dear, helps people grow. It helps them stay stronger_ , Snow once told her. _It makes them hope for a better tomorrow._

Hope is the only thing stronger than fear. Katniss Everdeen was the rebellion's hope.

It all clicked in her head then. Bex blinked to make sure she wasn't dreaming. She even debated on pinching herself, but decided that might look a little weird in a public setting. After rubbing the bridge of her nose, Bex leaned in towards the Gamemaker.

"So what's your angle here?" She asked. Despite the terror and anger running through her veins, her voice was surprisingly relaxed. "We protect her and then what?"

Plutarch opened his mouth to reply, but she was already talking over him. "We all die so she can live. That's what happens." Bex tapped at her chin. "Then more people die in whatever rebellion takes place until – _what_? Panem explodes?"

The Gamemaker laughed, "You ask a lot of questions."

"And I need a lot more answers."

Their eyes connected, and he didn't look away for what seemed like hours. Bex noticed the crinkles under his eyes, the way his bushy brows twitched while his body gyrated with nerves. Nico licked his lips and sat back in the chair, waiting for the Gamemaker's next move. Finally, Plutarch got to his feet, dusting off his dark blue slacks.

He looked between the two of them. "All will be revealed in due time, but can I count on you both?"

So little information for such a big job. A revolution was truly upon them, and everyone had a role to play.

The Victors paused. Nico turned to glance at Bex, watching her expression contort. She didn't move, didn't even look at Plutarch. She simply stared at the floor, and then at Nico. He decided to take matters into his own hands. He was older, after all. He knew what he was doing.

Nico stood up and lifted his hand. Plutarch reached over to shake it, but someone was blocking his way.

Bex stood in front of Nico. She was a lot smaller than him, so she didn't provide much of a wall, but she stopped them from getting any closer. Nico sighed angrily behind her back. She still didn't move.

Scowling in the Gamemaker's direction, she hissed, "I want the Games to end."

"And they _will_ –" Plutarch stated.

"No, not just these Games. _All_ of them," she seethed. "I'm tired of the fake smiles. I'm tired of pleasuring you self-obsessed Capitol people. I'm tired of the contracts and threats against my family. I'm tired of seeing Nico here too scared to go outside. I want it all _to end_."

He lifted his chin, mouth formed in a tight line. His eyes scrutinized her, but Bex couldn't ignore that they seemed kind, even though they looked so alike to Snow's.

"I _promise_ that I will help you, Bex Nassar." He said honestly, _truthfully_. "I swear to you, I will. I swear on my life."

She could hear the earnestness in his tone, but Bex refused to back down. "You Gamemakers have never lived too long."

"Then I will do what I can in the time I have left." A smile played at his lips. " _Please_. Help me and I will do everything in my power to end this."

Slowly, Bex turned to meet Nico's eyes over her shoulder. His stare was distant, full of silent nerves, but the nod he gave her said all she needed to know. She swallowed hard. Bex needed to learn to trust in people's judgment more, and this was the first step. A pretty big step, but one she needed to make _now_.

Bex reached her hand out. Plutarch glanced down at it with a smile, but her own frown did not waver. As their hands clasped together, she felt her whole future implode. With the Head Gamemaker leading the pack, this wasn't just a rebellion anymore. It was President Snow's worst fear.

This was a real war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so! Bex now knows about the rebellion, but Plutarch purposefully isn't telling her much for the same reasons he never told Katniss, but unlike her, Bex isn't fully in the dark. Bex is way too close to the capitol to know the full gist of the plan, but she does know a sliver of it and will protect Katniss if it means the Games will end for good. 
> 
> I really liked playing with how much Bex (and Nico) could know, and then what others knew too. Like Johanna, for instance, won't know the full plan until the end of Day 1 during the Quell. That really isn't that big of a spoiler. This fact is only brought up in passing in a much later chapter, but I wanted to bring it up to how this story works with withdrawing info at the right times. Plutarch is incredibly calculative. I mean, this guy pulled a whole rebellion right under Snow's nose!
> 
> Anyways, thank you to everyone for reading and your constant support! 💞


	23. A SLIVER OF ATTENTION

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

#####  **__________________________**

**BEX'S** head hurt with the number of responsibilities piling down on her. Not only did she now have Plutarch Heavensbee breathing down her neck, but she also had to deal with Johanna's wrath.

The mentor berated both Nico and Bex as soon as they returned from Plutarch's meeting. She demanded to know their roster for possible for allies, and in a way, Bex understood her persistence. They had put off telling her for too long. Bex and Nico were older than Johanna, but they cowered in fear at her questions. After Bex revealed their list of allies, Johanna almost erupted. She really didn't give her much to work with, considering that both tributes wanted to work with Mags and Finick, as well as the pair from District Three, Cecelia, and Katniss.

Johanna didn't like any of them, except Finnick and Katniss.

She left the living quarters angry, heading down to speak with the other mentors about forging alliances. Bex and Nico didn't see her for the rest of the night.

It was the third day of training. Private sessions began strictly at two PM. Usually, Gamemakers would schedule private sessions the next day, but seeing as all of the tributes were past Victors, they were done being lenient. They only had a few hours before they were judged.

Almost all of the tributes were stationed in the gym, except for the Careers. They decided, yet again, they were too good for this. But Bex wasn't going to pay attention to anyone else now. She had much bigger problems to face, and it all came back to the Gamemaker that was watching her like a hawk from his apartment over the gymnasium. Bex swallowed hard when she met his eyes, and then separated from Nico at the entrance, heading for the camouflage station.

Bex figured that her best distraction would be getting to work, blocking everyone out. Visiting empty stations like camouflage, edible plants and insects. Even knot-tying still helped for whatever deadly arena Snow had planned for them. Plus, she could avoid other Victors. Not even Finnick approached her as Bex began to study the paint coating her arm, wondering if it would pass enough for tree bark.

_I_ promise _that I will help you, Bex Nassar._ Plutarch's voice was a solid echo on the walls of her mind. _I swear to you I will. I swear on my life._

Bex almost broke the paintbrush in two. She was gripping it so hard that her hand went numb. A sigh escaped her mouth, and she looked back at the Gamemaker chatting away upstairs. She couldn't _believe_ she was willing to truth another Capitol elite. His plan was almost too good to be true – whatever kind of plan he truly _had_. Plutarch didn't reveal much. He promised he would end the Games, but how could any of them be so sure? Gamemakers always had a few tricks up their sleeves. Perhaps he was trying to psych her out.

But then, Bex remembered the kindness in his eyes. She remembered the way he spoke ill of the Capitol, the way he pointed out her fake smile in the middle of a gala. There was something about him that was different. And it gave her hope, despite how deadly that may be.

Once two PM rolled around, the tributes were promptly escorted to a waiting room. The Career pack was already waiting there for them, as if they were tardy. Enobaria flashed her pointed teeth when the group walked into the room. Bex grimaced and sat back in her assigned seat, Nico plopping right beside her. The waiting room hadn't changed: same gray walls, same uncomfortable chairs. They were going to be here forever.

Gloss was called in first. He scanned the room and sent a wicked smirk towards the rest of the Victors before walking into his private session. Bex noticed Nico's leg was bouncing like crazy, similar to Plutarch's nervous tick in their meeting yesterday. She swallowed hard, keeping her stare on her hands. They were shaking. Bex didn't pay any attention to Katniss throughout the day, and she definitely wasn't going to start now. Thoughts of revolution played through her head, accompanied by an image of Katniss at the front of an army, leading the pack.

The morphlings from District Six sat on Bex's left. She could hear them breathing heavily through their noses, trying to choke down whatever was coming up their throats.

Cashmere was called, and then Brutus, and then Enobaria. Beetee was called three times before he was forcefully escorted in.

Bex felt eyes on her. When she lifted her head, she noticed Finnick looking over his shoulder. His lips curled into a smirk, even when Bex looked away. She wondered if he was working with Plutarch too.

The room was so quiet. Some groups were having conversations, but Bex blocked them out. She could only hear her own breathing until Nico's name was called. She viewed up as he got to his feet, sending him a warm smile, one he knew was fake. He withdrew a long breath before heading inside the gym.

Now Bex's leg was bouncing.

It felt like hours before her name was called. She was starting to get worried, and then that unenthusiastic voice boomed through the speakers.

"District Seven: Bex Nassar. Report for individual assessment."

Bile rose in her throat. Bex shoved it down and she stood up, flexing her hands in and out. Katniss' stare was burning into her as she made her way to the entrance. A Peacekeeper opened the door for her, and she didn't give him an inkling of her attention. Instead, Bex turned her head. She met Katniss Everdeen's eyes, situated at the back of the room. Bex's heart hammered in her chest as the door closed behind her.

More Peacekeepers were lining the gymnasium as she entered. Nico was heading into an exit at the end of the room when she stepped inside. They made eye contact before he left. Bex studied the Peacekeepers around the room, assisted by trainers in their customary uniforms. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek and lifted her head towards the apartment of Gamemakers. For the first time, all their eyes were fixated on her. She fidgeted with one of the belt loops on her pants.

"Bex Nassar," she introduced. "District Seven."

Plutarch smiled. "Miss Nassar, you have ten minutes to present your chosen skill."

Bex stared at him for a long while, analyzing his every move. He was fiddling with his rings now. She wondered if that was another nervous habit, but his stance remained calm. How could he stand there with all those other Gamemakers and pretend that he was on their side? Did whatever training he had for this position teach him how to expertly lie?

For a second, she couldn't blame him. The Capitol had made her into a professional liar as well.

"Miss Nassar," Plutarch called again. "Are you ready?"

Bex decided not to answer. Instead, she made her way over to the axe station and approached the weapon rack. Her hands were still shaking. She reached out, debating which one she wanted to take. Chatter resonated from the Gamemaker apartment, but Bex didn't let it distract her as she picked the heaviest axe, the one with the largest blade. She walked to the simulation booth. Katniss used this when she put on a show with her archery skills on the first training day, displaying her quick reflexes as she took down the holographic targets. Bex hoped to accomplish the same thing today with her axe.

She tapped on the console before the booth and set a specified amount of targets. This tech was fairly new. She certainly didn't have it during her Games. Her finger hovered over the start button before her train of thought was interrupted by laughing.

Her body jolted with nerves. The axe almost slipped from her fingers when she heard the thundering hysterics behind her. She turned and ogled the Gamemakers. They were talking again, acting as if she didn't exist. Even Plutarch's back was turned. Her face heated with anger.

They might have a forcefield keeping them protected, due to Katniss' actions last year, but there were surely other ways to get their attention.

"HEY!" She hollered, waving her hands in the air.

The Gamemakers abruptly looked her way. Plutarch turned with a casual smile, as if he was expecting her to do that.

"I would _appreciate it_ if I could have just a sliver of your attention," she finished, spinning back to the console and hitting start. Plutarch nodded in her direction before she entered the simulation booth.

Bex stood in the middle of the booth, stepping on top of the light-up plate. Once her feet hit the platform, the lights around her dimmed. Thin lines of gold surrounded the room and overlapped each other. They moved slightly, sensing her position. She turned her head at the right time.

A brightly-lit hologram began charging in her direction, holding up a spear. Bex dodged their weapon, and when they were in close enough distance, she swung her axe. Their head snapped off and the hologram fizzled out.

Another one rose from the opposite end of the room, holding a bow and arrow. They shot once. She sliced the arrow in half with her weapon. The target crept closer, so Bex stepped to the edge of the platform, sinking her axe in their gut.

A flash of light caught her eye. Bex looked up and saw a hologram running across the rafters of the booth. They held a sword. She had to wait until they were close enough; this axe wasn't meant for throwing at a distance. But then, the target jumped on the plate, right in front of her. Bex gasped as they swung the sword, and she ducked down. She sliced through their leg, which brought them to their knees. Once she was on her feet again, the hologram attempted to swipe at her again. She ended them with a swift cut across the neck.

She took down another. And another. And even more. One challenged her with an axe similar to her own, but she killed them easily. Bex avoided spears thrown at her, escaped the deadly strike of a sword, even cut through arrows. Each target fizzled into a group of cubes at her feet.

Sweat coated her brow as the last target sent a knife in her direction. Bex took a daring approach and hurtled her axe in the hologram's direction. The axe wedged itself in the target's gut, and it crumbled into tiny cubes before flickering out.

Every light burned out. Bex released a shuddering breath and grabbed the axe. The door slid open and she walked out of the booth with her head held high. The Gamemakers couldn't look away, and for once, she was happy about it. Bex licked at her chapped lips and stood before them in the center of the gym.

The axe clattered at her feet. She didn't dare pick it up. Bex simply bowed, lowering her head but never looking away from the Head Gamemaker. He smiled.

She walked out before she could regret her decision.

#####  **__________________________**

Bex remembered how nervous she was to receive her training scores during her first Games. Her whole body had been vibrating with anxiety. She constantly repeated in her head what she could've done better. Back then, she wasn't as handy with an axe as she was now, despite her prior practice. She wasn't a killer yet. Just a bitter teenager from District Seven that cut wood to keep her family alive.

At the time, she received a score of six for her individual session. Not a great score, but one Blight said they could work with. She still won those Games. And now, he was dead.

Bex was feeling the same kind of concern now, but for a much different reason. She wasn't the same person she was back then. She wasn't nervous because of her lack of skill or ruthlessness. Quite simply, Bex didn't know if her outburst would cause any repercussions. Not just with her training score, but her agreement with Plutarch too. But the training score was the main subject weighing down on her shoulders. She couldn't help but think about it, regretting even opening her big mouth in the first place.

But she received a six once, and then won. Scoring does not always matter.

Although, it certainly might affect her chance for sponsors.

She glanced at Nico, who sat beside her on the couch, as the Capitol insignia appeared on the TV projection. They hadn't talked about their private sessions. She hadn't even told Phoenix. The entire afternoon was kept a mystery, and Bex wondered if it was better off that way. She'd keep her lips sealed until the outburst was mentioned. But still ... she couldn't help wonder what Nico did.

Speaking of outbursts, it was then that Bex noticed Johanna was nowhere to be found.

Phoenix patted her leg, bringing her attention back to him. A warm smile graced his lips. He could obviously see her hands were trembling, so she hid them underneath her legs before turning back to the TV. "Quiet, quiet!" Iliana yelled, scrambling to get to her seat. Her group of assistants waited behind the couch as Caesar Flickerman appeared on the projection.

Both Nico and Bex rolled their eyes.

After a longwinded speech detailing his excitement for the upcoming Quarter Quell, Caesar finally got into what they've been waiting for: "As you know, tributes were rated on a scale of one to twelve after three days of careful evaluation. The Gamemakers would like to acknowledge that this year's tributes are exceptional not just because they are all Victors, but they each have a rare, singular skill that has carried on from their original Games to now. Let's begin."

Caesar switched through the cards in his hands as images of tributes appeared on the screen behind him. "From District One, Gloss Pulchra. A score of ten. Also from District One, Cashmere Pulchra. A score of nine ..."

Iliana whipped out a paper fan and waved it in front of herself. "Prissy, little blonde."

The rest of the team turned to stare at her as Caesar continued on with the scores. Iliana raised a brow. "What? I can hate whoever I want, even if they are a Capitol favorite."

"Didn't think you had it in you to hate someone," Phoenix grinned, squeezing her hand. "But I do find it funny that the one that grinds your gears is a 'prissy, little blonde.'"

Iliana rolled her eyes, despite the small smile on her lips.

When they all turned back to the TV, Caesar had already reached District Four: "Finnick Odair. A score of eleven."

Bex leaned forward and rested her chin on her fists. _Of course_.

"From District Four, Mags Flanagan. A score of five."

They waited in agony for a few more minutes until Caesar finally grinned, as if he were looking right at them through the screen. "From District Seven, Nico Cadoc."

Nico leaned forward.

"A score of –" Caesar flipped a card. "– Eight."

Phoenix reached over Bex to shake Nico's shoulder. Iliana lifted her hands and clapped, "Fine job, Nico. Fine job."

Her assistants shushed the entire room as Caesar continued, dark eyes burning into the camera. They almost matched his semi-permanent, dark blue hair. The living room went silent once again.

"Also from District Seven, Bex Nassar. A score of ..."

Bex held her breath.

Caesar flashed his big smile, "Ten."

_Ten?_ She blinked twice. _How does someone go from a score of six to a ten?_

"Yes!" Phoenix shouted, throwing his hands up. Iliana clapped again, along with her assistants, as Phoenix stood and shut off the television. "Well done, you two. That will surely get you some sponsors."

"Most definitely," Iliana agreed. "A score of ten ... I can't believe just a few years ago, you were crying about receiving a six. Hard work always pays off, especially for our two champions."

Phoenix waved people over. "I believe a congratulations is in order. Let's have a toast!"

At his call, two Avoxes came rushing over with flutes of champagne. Bex swallowed hard as she took in Angelo's distant stare. He avoided her at all costs, and Bex had to reach for her own glass off his tray.

She needed to talk to him soon. Just not today.

Once everyone had a glass, Phoenix raised his own and exclaimed, "To our champions, Nico and Bex."

"May the odds be ever in your favor," Iliana added in her cheery voice.

Bex's lips formed into a tight smile as they all clinked their glasses together, savoring the bubbly drink. It was pretty hard to enjoy the moment while her-crush-turned-Avox was in the room, but Bex did her best to act like everything was completely normal, as if Angelo didn't exist. She downed more of the alcohol and hoped it would make her forget about him. Sadly, champagne didn't grant miracles.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Johanna sauntered in and grabbed a flute from an Avox passing by. She looked calm, but a little out of breath. Iliana turned to glare at her over her shoulder, exclaiming, "You missed the scoring! Some mentor _you are_."

"Oh, I _heard_ the scoring," Johanna quipped, "but I think I might've also just scored our team something great."

Her eyes glinted with mischief. Bex cocked her head. She didn't like this look one bit.

Johanna finished off the rest of the champagne in her glass and placed it on the coffee table. She stood up straighter, pointing at one person in particular. "Bex, come and talk with me."

After sending Nico an unwary glance, Bex stood and followed Johanna into her bedroom. She shut the door once Bex walked into the room, which didn't comfort her at all. Johanna's mouth formed into a sly grin. Bex turned, arms crossed over her chest, and sighed, "Seriously, Johanna, if you want to be a good mentor you have to keep track of the tributes' private session scores."

"Can you just _be quiet_?" Johanna scoffed. Her face was half-covered by the darkness of the room. She reached over and yanked a light on. "I really did something great here."

Bex rolled her eyes, but her lips were sealed shut. She waited for Johanna to continue with an impatient tapping of her foot.

"Alright," the mentor grinned, "so we all know how gullible the Capitol people can be ..."

Bex nodded along with her.

Johanna played up the dramatics with her hands, walking around Bex like a predator with its prey. "They love mystery, they love romance – they want a _story_. The star-crossed lovers plot has worked well in the past. I mean, it helped Katniss Everdeen and her boy-toy survive, right? For at least a little while?" She paused and snapped in Bex's direction. The other girl flinched. "But what if we changed it up?"

Suddenly, Bex's top lip curled in disgust. Not just at the plan Johanna had concocted, but with _who_ she wanted to involve in it. "Um ... I am _not_ pretending to be in love Nico." She stuck her tongue out with revulsion. Johanna pinched the bridge of her nose. "He's more than a decade older than me! Not going to happen. Nobody would believe it anyway."

"I'm not talking about Nico! Think _deeper_." She brushed the tip of her finger on Bex's forehead.

Bex still wasn't getting it. Her brows crossed.

"Fine. I'll make it simpler for you. How much more star-crossed can you get than two tributes falling in love –" Her lips curled into a sickly-sweet grin. "– From _different Districts_."

Realization dawned on her then, relaxing her features. Bex's lips parted, but she didn't speak. She _couldn't_ speak for a solid minute. Her face was plastered with shock and Johanna waited for an answer while waving her hands in the air.

Finally, Bex uttered one word only, " _No_ –"

"Yes," Johanna replied quickly, her tone slightly mocking. "You and Finnick Odair are going to be the talk of the town. Get ready to be in love with the Capitol's Golden Boy, Bex Nassar."

Lifting a hand to her head, Bex rubbed at her temples. She felt sick and woozy. Was the room spinning or was she just imagining it? She hadn't fainted in a long time. Probably since her first Games, after the first day in the arena, where she recounted all the bloodshed she witnessed and passed out at the mere memory. She only fainted in times of sheer panic, where she couldn't balance reality and the choices she's made.

"I've already cleared it with the District Four team," Johanna continued. "I've mentioned it as a rumor to sponsors and they're already eating it up. Caesar Flickerman should know by now. We'll be making the big reveal tomorrow."

The room was _definitely_ spinning now, twirling across her vision, bobbing from side-to-side. Bex was sure her eyes were crossed at this point. Her breathing was erratic. She started to sweat profusely. Her mentor's voice began to fade away.

Johanna placed her hands on her hips. "It's not like you two don't know each other at all. Don't freak out, Bex. Just play up the smiles and _especially_ , the flirtation in your interview tomorrow and –"

Bex collapsed before she could finish.


	24. FOR ALL ETERNITY

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

#####  **__________________________**

**DESPITE** being in a sporadic state of unconscious, Bex ended up waking just fine. But it seemed the last thing her body wanted to do was fall asleep that night. The fainting granted her no favors. Panic set in during the early hours of the night. Bex curled into her comforter, but couldn't for the life of her fall asleep. Her mind felt like it was running a mile a minute. She couldn't get the jitters out of her system.

As a child, her mother told her to count sheep when she couldn't sleep, but when she tried to attempt that now, she was reminded _yet again_ of all her responsibilities. Bex clutched her ring tight.

She wasn't sure when she exactly fell asleep, but it felt like fainting all over again.

Her eyes were heavy when Iliana burst through her bedroom, waving her hands in the air. Bex was incredibly groggy, bleary-eyed, and still shaking with worry. She was sure she only got two hours of sleep. Iliana ignored the Victor's pained expression, and Bex decided that she couldn't blame her. Today was Iliana's big day, after all. The day she waited for every single year.

"It's interview day!" She exclaimed, hoisting Bex to her feet. "I cannot _wait_ to show you what I have in store!"

Johanna's voice was like a distant ring in her ears: _Just play up the smiles and_ especially _, the flirtation in your interview._

Bex smiled towards Iliana, shoving her anxieties to the back of her head, vowing to give them attention another day. Just not now. She couldn't deal with all of this at once. Who knows if she would faint again?

Today, she would do what she was asked. She'd be a doll. Bex had gotten quite good at it over the years. She'd let Iliana dress her in whatever catastrophe she came up with. She'd follow whatever Johanna wanted her to say, no matter how much it made her barf. She'd play up the dramatics. She'd make the flirtation believable.

At this point, her actions reflected in whether she would live or die. If Bex had to pretend to be in love with Finnick to live, then so be it. Her imminent death would be no longer. She didn't want to play the weak card anymore.

She was dressed in a black sweatsuit, similar to what Nico adorned as he exited his room right after her. Then, they were both escorted to the stadium where Caesar's interviews were held. Bex could never get over how massive this place was. It seemed to look bigger every year she visited. The stadium was magnificent, and it would be filled wall-to-wall tonight with Capitol elite, as well as another twelve floors for the stylists and their teams to get ready. Bex's own team arrived promptly, just as other Districts began to pull into the parking lot. The sun moved steadily over the horizon as they walked through the door.

It was hardly noon. The interview wasn't until hours later. Today was going to be _dreadfully_ long.

Bex and Nico were separated as soon as they arrived. They were shoved into two separate rooms on the seventh floor before their team got to work. Bex assumed her male partner would not be in prep for as long as she would. She needed to be flawless from head-to-toe.

Scrubbing her whole body down took longer than she anticipated. The prep team washed off any trace of sweat from the gym, any leftover residue that the Remake Center missed. Her teeth were bleached again and her tan skin was made shiny smooth. Any hair that was not on her head was waxed off. Her brow was plucked to no end. She was in so much pain just to be perfect, but she would not scream. Bex was a doll today. Dolls did not scream. They did as they were told, until their heads were ripped off. That was exactly what she wanted to avoid.

While her nails were painted a glittery gold, the rest of Iliana's team went to work on her hair. If her timing was correct, the interviews were to start in two hours, and Bex was sure they didn't have enough time to finish hair, makeup, and to shove herself into whatever Iliana wanted her to wear. Thankfully, the interviews went in order of Districts. They had a little bit more time, but not enough.

One assistant picked up various sections of Bex's hair and wrapped strands around a curling iron. Her hair was supposed to flow in wavy ringlets. Johanna sat beside the vanity, bored as ever, while watching the assistants work. She arrived after they had finished waxing, mentioning that she "would've been there sooner, but Bex's suffering was too much to handle." Now, she sat next to Iliana, flicking through her tablet and going over whatever special notes she had for this evening. Bex's hands shook slightly with nerves, angering the woman painting her nails.

"I'm so bored right now," Johanna sighed, turning to look at Bex in the mirror. "Can we just go over a few pointers for tonight?"

Bex inhaled a shuddering breath. "I guess so."

"It's nothing too serious," she replied quickly. Bex didn't like the sound of it already. "You just really need to sell being in love with Finnick. It has to be from the moment you two met, like ... love at first sight." Johanna then looked to her black-painted nails. "Gross."

"What else?" Bex asked, hands twitching.

"Even though it's love at first sight, you two don't say anything. You kept it quiet," Johanna explained further, "but when you are both faced with being in the Hunger Games yet again – and maybe your untimely deaths – you decide the time is now. You admit your feelings for each other as soon as you meet in the Capitol."

Iliana clasped her hands together. "That sounds _so romantic_. It must be pretty easy pretending to be in love with that dreamboat, Bex."

Some might say _too easy_. Bex's stomach was doing somersaults.

"Contain yourself," Johanna muttered, glaring at the stylist. She then turned to face Bex's reflection. "That's your epic love story. Got it?"

Bex narrowed her stare at Johanna. "Why don't you just give me some cue cards and I'll read off those?"

She snickered, "I'm way too lazy to do that." Glancing to her left, Johanna plucked a glass of green champagne from an Avox's tray. She took a sip and looked to Bex once again. "Also remember to give the crowd that flirty smile you used on the guy from the meat market. They'll love it."

The Quarter Quell insignia appeared on the TV projection next to Iliana's vanity. Everyone who wasn't working on Bex turned to face it as the Panem anthem began to play. Iliana clapped when Caesar revealed himself and greeted the crowd, while Johanna rolled her eyes with disgust. She downed the rest of her champagne.

"Almost done," the assistant curling her hair murmured. The other one painting her nails moved her chair to the other side and began to paint the left hand.

Bex's stare flickered to the TV for a moment, watching Caesar giggle towards the audience and play with his lavender-colored hair. "Thank you, thank you," he shouted, bowing before the audience. "Thank you for being here tonight on the eve of the seventy-fifth Hunger Games!"

Her breath hitched. She averted her eyes.

Caesar continued to laugh maniacally. "We have never seen anything like this. And we will _never_ see anything like it again. Because tonight, on this stage, twenty-four of Panem's brightest stars will vie for the ultimate crown. Tonight will be their final opportunity to express their thoughts and our final opportunity to express our love." He sighed into the mic. "And heartbreakingly, to say goodbye to all but _one_."

The audience groaned along with Johanna, who picked up another glass of champagne. She walked up to the TV, blocking Iliana's view, and muttered, "I wish I could throw this at his face."

Before a fight could break out, the two assistants finished their roles and allowed Bex to stand. When she wasn't looking, Bex realized one of them had braided the sides of her head, placing small, white paper roses between the crevices, as well as down the length of her wavy hair. She admired it in the mirror before turning to Iliana.

The stylist squealed and took out a dress bag from the corner of the room. After urging her to change behind the curtain, Bex took the bag from her hands and was surprised by the weight of it. This couldn't be good.

Iliana had said this dress took her months to come up with, and Bex understood why as she unzipped the bag. It was different from the usual tree outfits she saw every year. Instead, Iliana focused on District Seven's paper industry. The dress was made from a material that looked like paper, but was soft as silk. More paper roses were sewn along the straps of the halter top, while shimmering fabric accented the bodice and skirt. It had a long train with additional paper roses stitched onto the bottom, accompanied by a skirt that flowered like layered paper with thin slits on the sides, revealing Bex's toned legs.

Perhaps, she had judged too quickly.

Iliana had to help her lace up the back as the interviews began on the TV. Bex could hear Cashmere's fake cries from the other end of the room. They clearly had an agenda here. Probably to soften the Capitol up so much that they'll cancel the Games. Bex wondered if the rest of the tributes were going with the same tactic, while she and Finnick were supposed to play star-crossed lovers.

She placed on her gold heels and walked out. They didn't have much time now to finish her makeup, but Iliana assured her that they would be alright. "I want to go with a very pure, natural look to accompany this dress," she explained. "You need not worry."

Iliana lined Bex's eyes with a thin, gold strip before gluing lashes on with flecks of gold at the tips. _So much for natural_ , Bex thought when she looked in the mirror. The rest was quite simple, though. She'd give Iliana that. The stylist carved out Bex's natural, high cheekbones and applied a light blush. She finished with a peach gloss on the mouth, instructing her to smack her lips together. Bex thought it tasted like candy.

As Iliana made last-minute adjustments to her hair, she turned Bex's chair towards the television projection, just in time to catch Beetee's interview. Caesar was commenting on what the Capitol would miss more after these Games: Beetee or his brain, to which the District Three Victor responded, "If the Quarter Quell were written into law by men, certainly it can be ... unwritten."

Bex flinched at his comment. So everyone was using a similar tactic.

Johanna nodded towards the projection. "They're all playing the angry card," she muttered, looking at Bex over her shoulder. "You should too. The star-crossed lovers plot is a good strategy to gain sympathy and stop the Games."

Caesar released an awkward laugh as Beetee exited the stage.

Iliana tsked behind her head. Bex asked, "You don't really think they would stop the Games, right?"

"Maybe," Johanna shrugged, "if the Capitol citizens revolted. But one of these tributes would have to make them really mad or tug at their heartstrings."

"Well, I don't know anyone who could do _that_ –"

" _SHH_!"

The room fell into a hush as Finnick Odair entered the stage. The crowd went wild, and Johanna couldn't stop herself from grinning. She tried to hide it with her hand, but Bex could still see. Iliana finished with her hair as Caesar introduced Finnick, and Bex struggled to get up and walk towards the TV. Once she was standing on Johanna's right, her arms crossed.

She watched him giggle along with Caesar, entertaining his jokes and interacting with the vibrant crowd. They really loved him here in the Capitol, and it was pretty obvious why. He was so charismatic and amusing. She could deny it all she wanted, but Bex knew deep inside of her that he had successfully charmed her as well. And for once – as she stared into his sea-green irises on the TV – she realized she didn't care. She'd do anything to look at him for an entire day.

A knock resonated on the door and Phoenix walked in. "It's almost showtime. Nico is ready. How about our Flower Girl –"

Johanna shushed again, and they all turned back to the TV.

"So Finnick," Caesar exclaimed, "I understand that you have a message for somebody out there. A _special_ somebody." He chuckled, and Finnick smirked towards the crowd. "Can you explain more?"

Shoving the mic in his direction, Finnick replied, "This might be news to everybody, but I've recently – well –" He exhaled softly. "– Fallen in love behind the scenes."

The crowd screamed dramatically. Caesar's mouth dropped. "Wait, _with who_?"

"She's a Victor you all know and love. I've loved her since I first laid eyes on her, and with the timing we've been presented here, we admitted to each other how we really felt." The look he gave the audience was captivating. "It's Bex Nassar from District Seven. Your Flower Girl."

Again, the crowd went into hysterics. Finnick made eye contact with the camera, his eyes softening. Bex was completely fixated and took a step towards the projection.

"My love, you have my heart for all eternity. If I die in these Games, it will be protecting you, and my last thought will be of your lips."

Everyone in the room was silent. Bex was completely speechless. Her mouth hung open, waiting for words to come out. She looked around the room, taking in Johanna's satisfied grin, and then Phoenix's wide eyes. Even the styling assistants held a hand to their chests in awe.

Iliana whipped out her fan and waved it in front of her face. "Boy," she huffed, "he is _good_."

"It's all in the notes," Johanna sneered, tapping her temple.

Bex blinked twice, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. "How am I going to top _that_?"

Phoenix walked over and placed a hand on her bare shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. "You have to," he replied as Iliana held open the door. Bex looked to her in terror. "You're on soon and we have to go to the bottom floor."

She released a nervous whimper before allowing her team to escort her out. Iliana and her assistants wished her good luck, but Bex could barely hear anything from the pounding in her ears. She followed Johanna and Phoenix to where Nico waited by the elevator. He was dressed similarly to herself: a pure white suit made from the same paper-like texture. A small paper rose was pinned to his lapel. As the doors opened and the group boarded the elevator, Bex felt her insides twist together, creating a kaleidoscope inside of her stomach. Just thinking about how she would top Finnick's interview was making her feel queasy.

Bex was a good liar. But there always came a time when your web of lies became so huge that the mere thought of it starts to make you sick.

A more frightening thought entered her mind: what if she wouldn't be lying at all? It had once been so easy to dream about him, to be consumed by him. She remembered the soft caress of his lips against her own, and wanting to feel that again suddenly seemed much more terrifying than lying in the first place.

Her stomach turned.

Nico went up to her ear as the doors opened and revealed the side stage. "You look great," he whispered, noticing the wash of panic on her face.

Bex swallowed hard and sent him a fake smile. "You too, Nico."

Phoenix informed the tributes that he and Johanna were going to their seats. "Look for us in the crowd if you choke up," he said. "But _please_ , don't choke." Bex tried to hide the horror on her face, the sickness in her stomach, but it was still very apparent. Phoenix hugged her tightly before leaving them to their own devices.

She just needed to go along with Johanna's story and make it believable. That was easier said than done, though. Bex couldn't help but fidget with her mother's ring as she walked with Nico to the side stage. The male from District Six was just finishing up his interview. Neither he nor his tribute partner spoke a whole lot, so their time with Caesar ended pretty quickly.

Bex lifted her head and almost body slammed into someone else. Her hands recognized the freckled, broad chest as they collided with it. Bex stopped short, glaring up at the person who had so conveniently walked in her way. Nico rolled his eyes and moved around them, heading for the side stage.

Finnick smirked down at her. "So I guess we're in love now."

She shrugged and crossed her arms. "I guess we are."

"I know it won't be so hard for you to love me but ..." He chuckled. "Make it believable."

Bex tensed up. Her back went straight. The Finnick who visited her back home was gone, replaced by the mask he put up for the public. She knew she was a hypocrite for disliking this side of him, because Bex, too, had to play the same role tonight. She had to be a dressed-up doll and put on her mask for the world to see. But she just missed who he _really_ was. She missed the lazy smiles and warm eyes. She missed the guy who almost kissed her in the doorframe of her bedroom.

They had a game to play now. She could reminisce all she wanted, but that didn't change the fact that he couldn't be the real Finnick here. Not in the Capitol, not even in the arena. It was time to be ruthless killers again.

Bex sent him a fake smile. "Don't try so hard next time, _my love_." She brushed up against his shoulder, eyes narrowing. "Tone it down."

Finding Nico amongst the crowd of stylists and production crew, Bex headed in his direction before someone latched a hand on her arm. She looked away, realizing that a production assistant was yanking her towards another stage entrance. "Hey!" She exclaimed as he dragged her. "I'm supposed to be over _there_."

Caesar's booming voice echoed on stage: "Ladies and gentlemen, you know as the Flower Girl ..."

The assistant shouted back at her, "No, you're coming from the center of the stage!"

She was suddenly thrown towards the middle stage entrance, right in front of a big, red _X_ on the floor. The doors slid open. Bex was caught off guard, blinded by the harsh lights piercing her eyes.

"Coming all the way from District Seven," Caesar introduced, "Bex Nassar!"

Music thudded in her ears. Bex blinked rapidly from the lights, but still managed to shuffle forward and onto the stage. She pulled up her dress, showing offer her sparkly, open-toed shoes. Her heels clicked loudly and she was so afraid of falling. She kept her head up, though, pretending as if she weren't dying on the inside.

Bex sent a bright grin towards the crowd. They roared with excitement.

She took Caesar's hand and curtsied for them. Her mask was incredibly believable. She couldn't believe her fake smiles still continued to fool the Capitol citizens to this day.

"Look at her!" Caesar exclaimed, gesturing to her dress. Bex pretended to look humble. "Are those the same roses from your chariot this year?"

"Yes, of course." She flipped a piece of dark hair over her shoulder, revealing more of the roses woven into her braids. "Thankfully, these ones won't take me by surprise and move on my head."

Caesar chuckled, "You're always so witty. You know how much we love you in the Capitol, and apparently, also one of your competitors." His voice dropped low. "Is what Finnick said really true?"

Lifting her head the slightest bit, Bex noticed all the tributes standing together at the top level of the stage. Her eyes met Finnick's. He sent her a tense smile.

Bex glanced back at Caesar, who was waiting impatiently, pushing the mic more into her face. She sighed dreamily. "Yes, it's all true. In moments like these, it's very important to take control and admit something you've kept hidden for years." She made eye contact with the audience. "Lucky for me, Finnick felt the same."

She could practically hear Finnick snickering at her acting.

"I love it! I love it!" Caesar shouted, jumping in place. "And I can't wait to see you two fight side-by-side in the Games."

"I will be protecting him just as much as he'll be protecting for me. He's my rock, and I'm happy ..." She trailed off, scanning the audience. In the fifth row, she found her team. Johanna mouthed a set of words for her, and Bex exhaled, turning to Caesar with a blush creeping to her cheeks. "I'm happy to be in these Games beside him. If only we could've had more time together. I just want more and more time."

Caesar held a hand over his heart. "Absolutely breathtaking. I can just feel the love tonight. How about you, folks?"

The crowd erupted in applause. Bex beamed towards them, and then subtly glanced up again. She saw Finnick mouthing the words, _Well played_.

When the clapping died down, Caesar turned to her sharply. His voice lowered once again. "I have one more question for you." He paused, inching closer to her. Bex twirled the ring on her finger. "It's about the Reaping. We were all very surprised, I think, when you volunteered for Johanna Mason. Can I ask why you did this?"

Bex's mouth went dry. She hadn't anticipated a question like this.

"Johanna has become like a sister to me," she replied honestly, nothing holding her back. "I did not want to subject her –"

The words went dead on her tongue. Bex looked back at the audience, finding Johanna's dark eyes. She wasn't mouthing anything for her to say. She was waiting on the edge of her seat, like the rest of the crowd, clutching their pearls and hands covering their mouths.

Bex spoke to President Snow this time, imagining him in the very center of the audience. "I wanted ... I wanted to go back. For Johanna and the Capitol. I'm loyal to all of you, who have given me so much."

She pictured Snow sneering back at her. With a heavy exhale, she could only hope that would be enough to keep her brother safe.

"Beautifully said," Caesar hummed, gaining her attention. Bex bowed her head. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Flower Girl, Bex Nassar!"

She curtsied one last time, allowing Caesar to grab her hand and hold it up in the air. Her stomach felt like it was doing flip flops and bile rose in her throat. A production assistant waved her over to the side stage, and when she grabbed his hand, he instructed her where she would be standing with the other tributes. Bex heard Nico's name being called as her vision blurred.

Squeezing the assistant's hand, she whispered, "I'm going to be sick."

He looked at her bug-eyed. Bex slumped against a black wall and held a hand to her mouth. "Can someone get me a bucket?" She asked harshly, glaring at the assistant.

He ran away quickly. Bex held her head in her hands, trying to drone out the pounding in her temples. Nausea swirled in her stomach, crawling up her throat.

She had told them she volunteered for the Capitol, that she was loyal to the very end. The lie had tasted like acid on her tongue. It felt like a bug at stung her, and her whole mouth throbbed from just the memory of the lie.

It had become too much then – the lying, the sucking up, the pleading for forgiveness. She wanted to be free.

An Avox eventually handed her bucket, which she dunked her hand into, heaving every now and then. Nothing came up, even if she felt something inch up the base of her throat, even if the nausea was overwhelming. Bex sat there against the wall, gagging, throughout the rest of the interviews.

Nico must be looking ridiculous out there, standing all alone.

She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there, but Bex finally stood at the thought of Nico. She needed to pull herself together for him. It would make them both look better in the end. All that mattered for the rest of their short lives was survival and sponsors.

Upon getting to her feet, Bex tried to her find her way back to the stage, but halted when she saw a group of the production crew huddled around a tiny TV. She walked closer to the projection. Peeta Mellark was being interviewed. She had been sitting so long that they had finally reached District Twelve in the lineup.

"But Peeta," Caesar said to him, tone growing dark, "the wedding, the marriage, never to be?"

Peeta replied confidently. "Well, actually, we got married. In secret. We ... we want our love to be eternal."

The crew before her awed. Bex arched a brow, sensing a plan unfolding.

"Of course," Caesar agreed.

"You know, Katniss and I ..." Peeta sighed. "We've been luckier than most. And I wouldn't have any regrets at all if ... if it weren't ..."

He suddenly got choked up. Caesar's brows crossed, matching Bex's expression. The crowd was gripping their seats. Peeta was about to set off a bomb.

Caesar asked, "If it weren't for _what_?"

Peeta's mouth wobbled, but Bex could see a hint of a smile.

"If it weren't for the baby," he finished.

The audience shrieked. Their gasps were louder than ever before. "CALL OFF THE GAMES!" They shouted, getting to their feet. One side of Peeta's mouth curled. Even Bex was impressed.

That was when the whole stage went dark.


	25. STAY ALIVE

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

#####  **__________________________**

**JOHANNA** was raving as the whole team traveled back to the Training Center. She absolutely could not believe District Twelve dropped a baby bomb. Haymitch had never even hinted at it during a meeting with the other mentors, leaving Johanna to assume that it wasn't planned, that Peeta made it up all on his own. "Clever bastard," she said as they entered their living quarters.

"It won't cancel the Games, though," Phoenix added, glancing at his two Victors, who hesitated warily near the elevator. "Try as they may, the Capitol will not relent so easily."

And he was right. They were informed an hour later that the Games were still on.

Bex hardly slept for the rest of the night. She tossed and turned within the sheets, anxiety welling up in her chest. It felt like heartburn. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, throbbing with every pulse. Bex tried to calm herself by breathing deeply. When that didn't work, she tried counting sheep again. And when that also didn't work, she decided to just lie there, listening to her own heartbeat, watching the moon reflect it's glow onto her ceiling.

Tomorrow, she wouldn't be able to run from her responsibilities anymore. She had to protect Katniss Everdeen, the Mockingjay, for a rebellion she hardly knew anything about. She had to pretend like she wasn't dying inside. She had to convince everyone that she was in love with Finnick Odair. That certainly wasn't the _hardest_ part of her plan – especially when she remembered the way he held her in her living room – but that Finnick was gone now and she had to learn to love the persona the Capitol loved. The persona she _despised_.

What would happen once they entered the arena? Would she have to kill him? Bex shivered at the thought, and the District Seven wedding song repeated in her head all over again.

Bex looked over at the clock. Three AM. There was absolutely no point of staying in this bed if she weren't going to sleep. She slid to the edge of the mattress and shoved on her fluffy slippers. After grabbing her silk robe hanging on the door, Bex padded into the hallway connecting all their rooms. She walked across to Nico's room, cracking it open the slightest bit, and saw his back facing her. He looked like he was snoring, but she didn't know for sure. It was probably best not to disturb him, no matter how much she wanted to. She closed the door and continued down the hall.

Something clattered on the floor up ahead.

Bex's breath hitched. She cautiously walked forward, hiding in the shadows of the hallway, as she approached the foyer of their living quarters. Her steps were lighter than air.

It was nothing to worry about. Just a simple Avox – _no_ , it was Angelo.

A silver platter had slipped from his grip, colliding with the ground. He had been cleaning the dining table. Bex watched him in the cover of darkness, wiping the sleep away from her eyes. He used to smile so much, but none of that lightness was left in him. Still, his dimples weren't hard to spot. Except this time, Bex felt nothing when she noticed them, and she hated herself for it.

She hated herself for never giving Angelo a chance before it was too late. She hated that the butterflies that once infiltrated her stomach whenever he was around have disappeared completely. But most of all, Bex hated herself that she got him into this. He was here because of _her_.

As he reached over to pluck the dirty glasses from the table, Bex stepped out into the foyer, wringing her hands out. He didn't notice her and continued with his duties. And then, her brash voice filled the room, "Angelo ..."

His head snapped up immediately. He almost dropped the silver platter all over again, but she ran over and caught it before it met the floor. Straightening her back, she handed it back to him, a soft smile on her lips, one he didn't return. He turned back to the table and continued his work. Did he expect her to just go away? She couldn't; her feet were frozen, planted in place.

"Angelo," she called, looking to her shaking hands, "what happened?"

She realized that her words might be insensitive after they came out of her mouth. But she asked on instinct. She had to know.

Angelo halted his movements, steadying himself on the table.

"They arrested you, didn't they? All the Peacekeepers?" She continued. "Snow found you and came for you."

He faced her, but still didn't look into her eyes. He motioned to his mouth.

Bex understood, "The Peacekeepers cut your tongue." If Snow couldn't have hers, he took Angelo's instead, knowing it would hurt twice as much.

"What about your mom?" She asked further. "What happened to her?"

Angelo didn't move. No indication of a response. _Dead_. His mother was dead.

Bex held his face in her tiny hands, and their eyes finally met. His hazel eyes had once been so lively and vivid, and now they were just as dead as his mom. His jaw clenched, wanting to back away, but Bex held him firmly. She didn't realize a tear had slipped down her cheek until she felt it on her chin, dripping on Angelo's dress shirt.

"Angelo ..." She shook her head, trailing off. Angelo's whole body tensed, as if he was struggling with someone within himself. Bex wondered if the Capitol tried programming him to ignore her, to be repulsed by her. But she was going to make him stay here, whether he liked it or not.

"Angelo, I'm _so_ sorry," she whispered, thumbs brushing over his sunken-in cheekbones. "This is all my fault. They hurt you to hurt _me_. I disobeyed the Capitol. I back-talked Snow, but they took it all out on you, because you were important to me. I know you can never forgive me, but ..." Sobs racked her entire body, leaving her to tremble. Bex sniffled loudly. "But I'm sorry. I couldn't be anymore sorry."

And just like, his eyes softened. His body wasn't as rigid. Some part of him was still in there, and she somehow triggered it. After a moment, Angelo slowly lifted his hand and rubbed away a single tear from her cheek.

He twitched. Bex's hands slipped to his cheek, and Angelo hesitantly reached inside his ear and pulled out a tiny, black chip. As he held it up to the light, Bex could see it clearer. It was a mic. The Capitol was always listening, even in their living quarters.

She swallowed hard, but before she could take it from his hands, Angelo placed it on the dining table and rammed his fist onto it. The mic crumbled into several pieces, sparks erupting at the impact.

Silence echoed between them, before they finally turned back to each other. Bex placed her hands on his shoulders. She searched his eyes, looking for any semblance of who he used to be inside them. Only a ghost stared back.

"I'm going to end them all," she promised, her voice a mere whisper. "Anyone who gets in my way, they're dead. Tributes, the Capitol, even Snow. I can't rest until he gets what's coming for him. What happened to you will not go down in vain. He is going to pay for every last tongue he cut, and every last life he took."

Angelo nodded.

Her grip went tight as she added, "I promise you that."

#####  **__________________________**

Bex was shaken awake by Iliana as the first rays of sun peeked through her curtains. She groaned, but got up willingly. After being tired for so long, Bex got used to the feeling. It wasn't a struggle to stand from the cloud-like mattress, rubbing away the small amount of sleep from her eyes.

They didn't speak as Iliana dressed her in this year's tribute uniform. It was a lightweight wet suit. Long sleeves hooked around her index fingers and the pants came up to her knees. She was also given a pair of liquid-resistant boots that covered the rest of her legs. Her hair was swept up into a high ponytail. Iliana slid a brown leather jacket over her shoulders and turned Bex around. Smoothing out the creases in the leather, she murmured, "For the ride over. To keep you warm."

As they made their way down the elevator to, heading for the lobby, Bex looked down at her hand. Her mother's wedding ring was still snug on her finger. Iliana hadn't asked her to take it off.

They were silent the whole ride down, even as they walked out of the Training Center, where a large hovercraft was waiting for them. Nico and Phoenix lingered by the walkway, allowing Iliana and Bex to enter the hovercraft first. Bex felt nauseous as she walked up the ramp, meeting Nico's eyes. Bags resided under them, a matching set to her own. He hadn't slept last night either.

When the four took their seats inside the hovercraft, two masked Peacekeepers came out from the front, holding long syringes. Bex didn't miss the sight of them, or the feeling of the tracker sliding underneath her skin, resting underneath a thin layer of flesh. She held out her arm and winced as the needle pierced her skin. It was over in a matter of seconds, but the sensation of the tracker remained ever-present. She could see a small light emit from underneath.

It didn't take long to get to the arena, what with the hovercraft's impressive speed. Once they landed on a large cement field, Bex walked off the hovercraft and took in the sight of a dark building in front of them, unfamiliar to her. She had no idea where they were or where they were headed. After watching the Games for so long and knowing each piece of it, she almost forgot how much these tributes were left in the dark.

The team walked through a set of double doors and met in the middle of a steel-covered room. Nico and Bex looked at each other and swallowed hard. Iliana and Phoenix, on the other hand, shared a tight hug, whispering compliments in each other's ears. Like, "You did great this year," and, "I'm proud of our team." After they separated, Iliana reached out and took Nico's hand.

"You're coming with me," she said, whisking him off in one direction. Both ends of the rooms were marked by hallways that looked very similar to tunnels.

As they walked away, panic seemed to shoot through Bex's body. Phoenix put a hand on her shoulder and began to lead her in the opposite tunnel. She felt safer in Phoenix's presence, but that didn't mean her fingers didn't stop twitching. She looked over her shoulder and met Nico's eyes before allowing the shadows to envelop her.

The hallway was long and empty. Bex could hear water dripping every so often. Enough to irritate her. Phoenix stopped at a room with her District number painted on the front and allowed her to walk in first. As she strode deeper inside the room, Bex was graced with the familiar tube that brought her up to the arena. The first time she got inside of it, she had been trembling so much that she hardly even moved off the pedestal. Not even Phoenix's advice could calm down her nerves. She hoped there wouldn't be a repeat of that.

When she turned, Phoenix was right in front of her, helping her shrug off her jacket. He slung it across his arm and tugged at her sleeves, which Bex now noticed could be detached. "Iliana said this suit is incredibly light for a reason. No thermal lining. The arena must be tropics or a desert –"

" _Sixty seconds to launch_ ," an automated voice belted from the speakers.

Bex sucked in a deep breath. She chewed on her bottom lip so hard that she tasted blood. Noticing her shaking, Phoenix put his hands on her shoulders. "Bex, are you –"

"What if I can't do this?" She asked, voice trembling. She tucked a few stray hairs out of her eyes. "I have ... so much riding on this. My brother needs to be safe. My District is crumbling. So many people are expecting things of me –"

She was so close to spilling all her secrets. So close to revealing the truth to Phoenix, but his mouth was opening before she could continue.

Soon he would know. The rebellion was coming with their own Head Gamemaker at the head of it. Snow wouldn't know what was coming for him. Bex didn't have any attachments to the people of the Capitol, but her team ... they were different, and she silently hoped they could be saved.

Perhaps, she was attached to some Capitol people after all.

"You'll do the best you can, and Johanna and I ... we'll do the best we can for you," Phoenix replied, silencing her thoughts.

Bex nodded. Her mouth felt like it had been glued together.

Phoenix's grip on her shoulder went tight for a short second, and he released a shuddering exhale, "I don't know what will happen with Nico. I believe in you both, I truly do. But you're going to try your damnedest. I know _that_. You're a survivor. You always have been." Phoenix then grasped her hands and lifted them. His thumbs smoothed over her knuckles as the thirty-second warning echoed around the room. He noticed the ring still sitting securely on her left hand, ran a finger over the emerald, and then smiled up at her. "I've known that since the day I met you."

Her eyes stung. Tears gathered in the corners, but she wiped them away before they could fall. "Thank you," she muttered, squeezing his hands.

Phoenix bowed his head, and Bex was suddenly eyeing the white roses embroidered on the lapels of his green suit. She licked her lips.

He noticed her staring. Phoenix pursed his lips, whispering before he could stop himself. "You should know ..." Their eyes met again, and Bex froze in place. Phoenix leaned into her ear. He should _not_ be saying the next words that were going to come out of his mouth, but they only had seconds left. And he needed to. Now was the only time.

"I don't know when we will meet again, but you have to know ..." His voice was barely above a whisper, "The white roses weren't just to connect you to Snow, or to present you as the Flower Girl. Iliana was intentional. They were always a promise to the public. A promise of revenge."

Bex blinked twice, not knowing what to make of this information. She didn't expect Phoenix to tell her this in their last moments together, and she certainly didn't expect Iliana to be against the place she seemed to love most. None of it made sense, but maybe it was something she should've seen all along.

Reaching out, Bex hugged him tightly. The embrace didn't last long, because she finally noticed the clock ticking down. There were fourteen seconds left. Her breath hitched, coming out uneven, as she quickly leaned back from Phoenix. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he said, "Stay alive, Flower Girl."

" _Ten seconds to launch_."

Bex slid out of his hold and faced the glass tube. Her brows knitted together, and she took one step inside. The tube closed around her, blue light sliding down from the top to scan her whole body. Bex's bottom lip quivered and she turned to face Phoenix again, nails digging into her palms.

" _Five seconds to launch_."

Phoenix pressed his hand on the glass, and Bex didn't hesitate to do the same. His voice was muffled as he said, "Use your petals for armor."

She felt like the tube was closing in on her. All she wanted was to be let out, but not in the way the Capitol planned.

The tube began to ascend, and Bex's hyperventilating became worse. Her hand slipped away from Phoenix's. He watched her with a mixture of worry and pride.

Up, up, and up. Darkness surrounded her on all sides, but then she was shrouded in light. Pale, never-ending light, like the kind you see when you die. Except, she wasn't dead. She was far from it. The pedestal halted in place, introducing her to this year's arena. Her eyes adjusted to the light and she looked around, breathing erratically.

Bex almost stumbled off her pedestal when she noticed the water surrounding her on all sides, sectioned off into slices by lines of rock, leading towards the large Cornucopia in the middle. She looked back, realizing that the ocean was bordered by a beach, and even further, an expansive jungle. Bile rose in her throat when she peered back down at the choppy water.

_She couldn't swim_.

"Let the seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favor."

A holographic timer emerged from the center of the Cornucopia. Bex's dread only got worse as the seconds ticked on.

_Ten_.

_Nine_.

_Eight_.

She scanned the tributes. Nico was three pedestals down on her right.

_Seven_.

_Six_.

On her left, Enobaria went into a fighting stance and bared her teeth. On her right, Woof looked around in fear, losing focus.

_Five_.

_Four_.

Bex's heart hammered in her chest when she noticed Finnick on the other end of the arena, right beside Mags.

_Three_.

Turning to the Cornucopia, she spotted three axes, all ranging in different sizes, leaning against a trident. She could only guess that was intentional.

_Two_.

She needed to figure this out. She couldn't swim. She'd have to run across the rubble. Oh, _gods_ , she wished she could just fucking _swim_.

_One_.

Her heart stopped just as the cannon fired.


	26. ALLIES

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

#####  **__________________________**

**BEX'S** mind was swimming as she leaped off the pedestal, landing right on the line of rubble nearest to her. Her feet stumbled. She was close enough to fall, but she didn't. She breathed, snapping her head to the Cornucopia, and ran for it, eyes set on the three axes waiting for her. Without one of those, she was completely defenseless, and she wouldn't dare allow herself to go down here without a fight.

As she ran, many of the others swam, diving through the water as fast as they could. Some stopped to breathe as water invaded their lungs. Some continued on and pulled others down into the ocean. Bex heaved relentlessly, trying not to distract herself by the other tributes, but it was so difficult. She needed to be alert at all times, while also attempting to not lose concentration.

Only a few others took her approach – sprinting across the stones to get to the Cornucopia. One tribute darted the other way, to the beach, and disappeared within the jungle. Bex was approaching another tribute in front of her. Upon noticing her, the woman tried to move faster, but Bex was determined to beat her. She had no idea who she was. Probably from District Nine or Ten. Her name suddenly didn't matter as Bex tackled her from behind and shoved her into the water. She didn't come back up.

It was then that Bex found Katniss racing through the water on her left. Bex was set on getting there first. She needed an axe. She wasn't going to let anyone stop her from getting one, not even Victors she was friendly with.

She jumped, finger latching onto the rocky edge of the Cornucopia. As she pulled herself up, Bex noticed Brutus running out and away from the Cornucopia, a stack of weapons underneath his bulky arm. One of the axes was gone: the smallest size, best for throwing. Bex released an angry and tiresome growl. She ran into the mouth of the Cornucopia and grabbed the next size up: the medium axe, able to be thrown long distance with a little heavier blade. This would do for the time being.

It felt right to have her fingers enclosed around the handle. A frenzy ensued in her mind, as if welcoming her home. She hadn't felt this relentless in a very long time.

It was _terrifying_.

Weapons clattered to the floor next to her, and Bex whirled around as she heard an arrow being notched in a bow. She already knew who she'd be turning to.

In any normal circumstance in the arena, Bex would already be aiming her axe for the other person's face. But when Bex met Katniss' cold grey eyes, her hands shot up, defenseless. She had to protect the Mockingjay.

Katniss dark brow furrowed. She looked around, but her arrow didn't waver.

"Don't shoot!" Bex pleaded. "I'm on your side!"

Realization danced across her stare. "We're allies," she said.

"Yes," Bex nodded. "We're allies. _Don't shoot_." The same kind of frenzy within Bex seemed to effect Katniss as well.

She stood up straighter, hand growing tight around her axe. Averting her eyes to the water, Bex spotted Nico swimming over, Cecelia not far behind. There was already a scratch lining his cheek. He must've gotten into a scuffle in the water, but he made it out alive.

Nico was going to come through for her. Bex released a breath of relief.

Suddenly, another body appeared beside Katniss. Screams were ringing in the air as she turned, arrow aimed at the person who decided to sneak up on her. Bex swallowed hard at the sight of him, the familiar queasiness creeping into her stomach.

Finnick paused beside them, reaching out to stop Katniss. But it wasn't just that. He was showing off a gold bracelet on his wrist.

"Good thing we're allies, right?" He snickered.

Katniss' stare darted from him to the bracelet. "Where did you get that?"

Finnick wiggled his fingers. "Where do you think?" He looked up, over Katniss' shoulder, but not at Bex. "Duck!"

In a split second, Finnick dashed over to where Bex was crouched down, reaching over her and grabbing his trident. Just as Bex turned her head to see where he was aiming, Finnick was throwing the trident, sinking it deep within the District Nine male's chest. A cannon fired.

Bex met his eyes. They were wild and full of fury, making her insides twist. She glanced down at that golden bracelet again. It was a sign. A sign for Katniss to trust him.

He must also be part of Plutarch's deal. He had to protect Katniss.

"Don't trust One and Two," he finally said, breaking Bex's stare. "I'll take this side. You two hold them off. I'll go find Peeta."

Katniss turned back to Bex with a worried look. The older Victor rolled her eyes and lifted the axe to her shoulder. "Keep your eyes on the prize, Girl on Fire. Finnick will get your boyfriend just fine." Over her shoulder, Bex waved over to Nico as he was within feet of the Cornucopia. "Over here, Nico!"

"How do I know that I can trust him?" Katniss asked, nocking an arrow.

Bex assumed she was talking about Finnick. "Because you can trust me," she replied confidently, "and that's all that matters, okay? If you trusted my guidance at the Training Center, then you can trust it here."

"The stakes are different now."

Her eyes narrowed. As she opened her mouth to give Katniss a snarky reply, Gloss sprung off the side of the Cornucopia, running for Katniss with a sword. He lunged. Katniss didn't have enough time to aim. Bex ran for him, ready to block her. It was time to receive the killing blow, and for once, Bex was glad for it to be honorable.

But she wasn't quick enough. Bex didn't receive Gloss' wrath. She didn't feel the blade pierce her skin.

It was Nico.

He had jumped in front of both them at the last second, allowing Gloss' sword to bury deep into his chest, the sharp tip coming out of his back. He staggered, and then groaned, blood spurting onto Gloss' face like a fountain. The Career yanked out his sword, causing Nico to collide with the floor, spine crushing with a loud crack.

Bex shrieked. The sound made Katniss shiver. It sounded almost like her own scream when her sister's name was called at the Reaping last year.

Gloss had vanished before he could endure Bex's wrath.

When she looked back down, a pool of blood had gathered at Bex and Katniss' feet. Nico's body began to slide off the Cornucopia before it completely flopped into the ocean. He was submerged by the waves, but Bex knew he could still be saved. A cannon hadn't gone off yet.

Adrenaline pumped in her veins. "Watch this," she ordered towards Katniss, laying her axe at her feet. The Mockingkay shot another arrow at one of the Careers trying to ambush them, hardly paying attention to Bex.

Until she heard someone plummet into the treacherous waves.

Bex didn't think as she plunged into the water cannonball-style. All she knew was that she needed to get Nico. She needed to save him. Her eyes stung outrageously as she opened them underwater, searching for her friend. She could hardly breathe. Water was entering her lungs. And she _couldn't swim_.

But there he was, sinking deeper and deeper into the ocean. Bex could hardly see through the foggy water. Nico was staring up at her, reaching for her hand. She tried to swim further down, but it was difficult. Propelling herself forward, she reached out for Nico, itching for his grip. He just kept sinking. He wasn't swimming towards her, and she couldn't get to him with the water entering her throat, slowing her down.

Bex wished she treated him better. They all should've. No one had believed in Nico and this was how he would go.

A cannon fired above water. It was for him.

Bex screamed, even though she knew it fell on deaf ears. More water ventured into her lungs, flowing through her bloodstream. Alarm ricocheted throughout her entire body. Her arms flailed around as she struggled to push herself up. She was sinking along with Nico's corpse.

This could _not_ be happening. How pathetic would it be for her to die in _water_ , out of all things?

Bex's anxiety reached its peak. She tried pushing herself up, but it didn't work. Her lungs were failing. They were losing oxygen every second. And she started to feel dizzy. Blackness began to coat her vision.

She blinked rapidly, eyes trying to adjust, before noticing a dark figure swimming towards her. Her heartbeat thrummed against her chest. She couldn't recognize them, and she certainly didn't want to right now. Her arms flailed again, and she pushed herself back. She didn't stop. She kept moving backward, but the figure was getting closer. Bex opened her mouth, allowing water inside, and screamed.

That was when the back of her head slammed into something hard.

Darkness consumed her.

#####  **__________________________**

Bex wasn't sure how long she'd been out when she finally opened her eyes. The sun was extremely warm, but she still shivered as if she'd been living in an iceberg for a year. She immediately began coughing up water. Salt lingered on her tongue as she clutched the lip of the Cornucopia, hacking up all the water that had once been in her lungs. Bex gasped for air. It felt so good to actually _breathe_.

Finnick's hands hadn't left her chest until she eventually laid back, heaving excessively. He placed one hand behind her head and the other on her cheek, hitting it slightly. Her skin had been a pale blue. Color was finally returning to it. "Bex," he called, "I need you to open your eyes. Can you hear me?"

Only somewhat. His voice was drowned out by the crashing waves. Bex coughed up one last bit of water and fluttered her eyes open. Her head was dizzy; her vision fuzzy. But Bex still lifted her left hand, trying to focus on the ring still sitting on her finger. It hadn't moved at all. Her good luck charm remained.

She huffed and sat up. As she held her head in her hands, she tried to focus on the group around her. With blurry eyes, Bex could make out Finnick, Katniss, Peeta, and Mags, all huddled around her. She looked out into the vast ocean and could just barely recognize Cecelia and Woof running off the beach. Everything felt like it was spinning. Her chest hurt and her mind felt like it was fizzling out, like the targets at the Training Center.

"Bex," Finnick said again, and she turned to him this time. "Bex, can you swim?"

Her reply was more water rising up her throat and out of her mouth. Bex hacked again, one hand on her chest.

Peeta ran a hand through his wet hair. "I don't think she can."

An ache pounded against her temples. It almost hurt to breathe now. Bex felt like the whole world was crumbling. Tears pricked at her red-rimmed eyes as she remember Nico's death. All the blood – there had been _so much_ blood. She hyperventilated at the thought of it. Bex shook her head, remembering how he reached for her. She tried to save him, but she wasn't strong enough. If only she learned how to _fucking swim_ –

The blood. She had been standing in it. Nico's blood was crusted on her shoes.

"We have to move," Katniss complained. "The Careers will be here any minute now to claim the Cornucopia. We don't have enough strength to fight them again."

Finnick held up a hand. "I know, I know. But she almost _drowned_. Can you have a little compassion?"

"No!"

He didn't listen to her. With one hand stroking her cold cheek, Finnick asked, "Bex, can you move? We need to go."

Water came up her lungs. She hacked for what felt like the hundredth time, and finally, it didn't hurt so much to breathe anymore. But the memories were resurfacing, and she couldn't push them away. She had been drowning, sinking deeper and deeper into the ocean. Sobs began to rack her body, leaving her a shaking mess. She had never felt this way before: so broken down and terrified.

"Peeta, we're _leaving_. We can't wait for her," Katniss hissed, tugging on her District partner's hand.

Finnick turned to her. "Katniss, _stop_."

Bex got to her feet then, surprising the group. She wobbled a little and her vision was still blurred, but she stood, tugging her axe along with her. Her chest rose and fell in an extreme manner. Her stare was manic. Finnick stood in front of her, hands out, and asked, "Are you okay?"

Her eyes darted from Finnick – drinking in the sea-green, reminding her of the water that almost consumed her – and then to Katniss' sharp, grey stare. Peeta didn't know what to do. He was frozen with one foot behind him. Mags held out a hand, hoping to calm her nerves.

The last thing Bex needed was to calm down.

Her head felt like it was cracking. She needed to get out of here _now_.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not her fake relationship with Finnick. Not her agreement with Plutarch. The realization that she almost died was hitting her in the worst of ways. She couldn't stop thinking about the water, how it had pulled her down. Her hands were shaking as she gripped the axe tightly. Finnick was saying something to her, but she couldn't hear it.

Her back turned before she could think otherwise. Bex began to sprint. She hopped off the Cornucopia, running across the rubble faster than she should've. Her lungs burned, but she didn't care. She just needed to go far away. She couldn't be near this water anymore.

"BEX!" Finnick hollered, approaching the edge of the Cornucopia. Katniss was yelling for them to move, that the Careers were coming, but Finnick could only focus on Bex, tumbling off the rubble and into the sand. "BEX, COME BACK!"

She ignored him and dashed right into the heart of the jungle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...........Nico is gone and Bex is going a little coo-coo because she almost died. Typical Hunger Games fashion! Seriously though, I'm sad to kill off Nico, but this is the Hunger Games, so we should expect a lot of death. I also thought his death was very fitting and noble – you know, saving Katniss and all for the future revolution. His death won't go unnoticed though. It will, of course, haunt Bex for a while – probably the rest of her life – and will be a huge source of her anger in future chapters.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading, and especially the people who have left comments! It really brightens my day to hear what you guys think of the story ❤️


	27. SURVIVAL INSTINCT

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

#####  **__________________________**

**HER** whole body was in survival mode, and she wasn't quite sure how to turn it off.

Bex tore through the jungle, cutting down branches and leaves that got in the way with her axe. She kept moving, even as her lungs felt like they were going to give out the longer she went. She just needed to keep running. A whisper of wind hurled her forward and begged her to never stop. Bex breathed heavily through her mouth and continued, her wet ponytail slapping against the nape of her neck.

Her foot caught onto a root hidden beneath the moist soil below. Bex lost her balance and tripped, somersaulting across the dirt and hurtling deeper in the jungle. She spat out soil and sat up on her knees. Her hands curled into the dirt and she began to rock back and forth, breathing loudly. That's all she needed to do. She needed to hear herself breathe, remind herself that she was still _here_.

She was no longer drowning. She was alive.

Bex tilted her face up and felt a few dew drops trickle down her cheeks. She exhaled again, and everything began to feel lighter. Wiping the back of her hand against her mouth, Bex looked down at her axe, which flew back a foot away when she fell. With a groan, she stood up and grabbed for it, fingers latched onto the leather handle.

Something rustled in the distance. She saw a flash of black up ahead.

Bex stood up straighter, holding the axe out in front of her. She traveled further into the jungle. Creatures howled from the treetops. They sounded like monkeys. But what Bex had seen in the trees wasn't an animal. It looked human.

She took off into a sprint, veering right, the same direction the figure went. Within seconds, she was body slamming into someone else. They both crashed to the earth below, eyes meeting as they both sat up.

Shaggy, black hair covered his soot-colored irises. His lips wobbled with fear and anguish. Blood leaked from a deep wound on his leg. Bex blinked, trying to focus on his face. It was one of the morphlings – the male tribute from District Six.

He tried pushing himself up with his skinny arms, but the leg wound stopped him completely. Bex flinched, attempting to fake him out, and he gasped loudly. She reached for her axe. Her muscles felt like they were tearing as she extended her hand, and eventually, her rough fingers curled around the handle. When she looked back at the morphling, he was scrambling away, using his arms to push himself across the dirt. He should know, as a Victor, that that was going to get him nowhere, but his brain was too fried by morphling to think otherwise.

Bex slipped on the wet soil before finally getting her footing. The male morphling was still crawling, doing his best to get away, but his escape method was useless. "STOP!" Bex rasped, and then whipped her axe in his direction. The blade lodged itself deep in his back.

The scream he released was not human.

She sprinted over to him, watching the way he pounded his fists into the dirt and wept for her to end him already. Bex swallowed hard, her throat begging for water. She reached down and ripped the axe from his back, creating a wet, crunching sound. Releasing ragged breaths, Bex straddled his back, locking her arm around his throat to lift his head. She paused for a moment, only hearing their heavy exhales. Tears dried on his cheeks.

His glazed eyes met her own. She blinked, her vision going blurry.

"I'm sorry," she croaked.

With one hand under his chin and the other locked around his throat, she twisted his neck in one fluid motion. Bone snapped. His neck felt like a weak twig in her hands. Bex exhaled, allowing his body to go limp in her arms, and a cannon fired.

He was dead, and she was already exhausted.

Bex was so thirsty from all the saltwater that entered her mouth. It felt like a hundred insects had stung her throat. She grabbed her axe and began to stagger into the jungle, hoping to find fresh water. But more sounds came from behind her. She looked over her shoulder and saw nothing, not even a figure dashing through the trees, but she decided to not engage. She couldn't. Her body felt like it was going to collapse and she didn't have the strength to snap another neck.

Freshwater would have to wait. She just hoped she could wait longer.

Bex began to fast-walk, pressing her hands to the tree trunks as she wandered passed. Half a mile later, she found a hollow trunk. It looked big enough to fit her and the bark was thin. She rapped her fist on it, hearing a soft, vacant sound on the inside. She suspected that none of these trees were real, and as usual, she was correct. Bex remembered practicing this tactic in her first Games years ago.

Using her axe, she ripped through the bark on one side, creating a small door for herself. The door would camouflage itself with the rest of the bark once it was closed, or so she hoped. Bex took some dirt and rubbed it over her face and suit, just to be extra precautious, before climbing into the hollow trunk. With one last look at the jungle, she secured herself inside.

Leaning her head against the wood, Bex released a breath of relief. Her eyes fluttered open and she noticed a small hole through the bark that could be used to her advantage. Unfortunately, she was too tired right now to keep watch. She'd just have to trust that this hiding spot would be safe enough.

Her back slid down until she was sitting on wet roots. The axe laid in between her legs. Bex dug her fingers in her hair and cried, just to remind herself that she was still human. Memories of Nico flashed in her mind: when they first met, how he got worse over time, the tears he shed at Blight's funeral, the hug he gave her when she did a simple act of kindness for him. They all faded together until all she saw was his body floating in the water, one hand stretched for her. And Bex sobbed and sobbed, body shaking, but she tried not to make a sound.

He shouldn't have gone down so brutally. Nico didn't deserve that. But he was still a hero, and that was one thing Bex had to keep reminding herself. He died doing his duty: protecting the Mockingjay. There had to be some respect in that.

Bex wasn't sure how, but it seemed she cried herself to sleep in that tree. She woke at the sound of a cannon, sitting up with a start. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She rubbed at her face, smearing the dirt more, and she told herself yet again that she was alive. However, if she didn't drink water soon, that might not be the case.

She heaved and got to her feet, peering through the peephole. Bex stood there for a few hours, drifting in and out. Sometimes, she leaned her head back and rested her eyes, and then looked out the hole again if she heard something. It was usually animals. No tributes had passed by her hiding spot while she was awake.

The sun had begun to set when screaming resonated near her tree. And then, two cannons fired. Bex's brow furrowed. It had all happened so quickly, she almost didn't believe it. She looked around, waiting to see a figure, but no one emerged from the darkness of the jungle.

Something began to drip near her. She couldn't see what it was from her peephole, but she could hear it, clear as day.

Bex licked her chapped lips. Her throat ached. She wondered if it could be freshwater.

She listened intently for at least ten minutes. The dripping didn't cease. She needed water so _badly_ that she was willing to risk it. The inside of her throat literally felt like it was on _fire_ , the scratchiness making her gag.

Bex finally pressed a hand against the tree door and stumbled out, dragging the axe along with her. She walked slowly through the darkness. Night had fallen throughout the arena, and she hoped to use that as her shield. Using the axe to cut through any leaves in her way, Bex ventured more into the forest, following the dripping sound with a dry tongue.

She wasn't sure how long she walked when she found it. But it must've been a hundred feet, maybe more. Something dripped down her face and she gasped with surprise. Her mouth opened wide, expecting rainwater to grace her mouth, but all she tasted was salt and rust. Her eyes snapped opened and she looked down at her hands. Tiny droplets trickled down her palms. She couldn't quite see the color in the dark, but it became clearer when she lifted her head.

Blood was raining down on her, cascading down her face, running through her hair. Bex's eyes opened wide in horror as she recognized the Victors from District Five hanging from the trees, their intestines wrapped around the branches like some party decoration. She cupped her hands around her mouth to stop from screaming, but the blood still leaked in. She could taste it on her tongue and spat out as much as she could. It coated her entire head and torso, but she was in too much shock to move.

Finally, she started to run, racing through the trees. Blood was smothering her, gluing her lips together. She could hardly breathe and it felt like drowning all over again. Wiping it from her eyes, Bex did her best to sprint away, far from those corpses and anyone else. Her feet glided across the earth as if she were running on a cloud, kicking away rocks in her path. In the distance, she heard the wings of a hovercraft coming to collect the bodies.

A shimmering light appeared before her then, and a pebble she kicked bounced right back in front of her.

Bex stopped in place, rubbing the blood from her chapped mouth. The shimmering revealed a wall of steel before sealing itself back together, like it had never happened. Once it was back to normal, Bex saw nothing but the jungle ahead. That couldn't be real.

She threw the pebble back, and again, it bounced off the invisible wall and landed at her feet. The wall thrummed with life and closed back up. It must be a forcefield, like the one in the Training Center. She was at one edge of the arena.

Carefully, Bex walked by it and turned around, heading north this time. Animals lurked between the shadows above her head, causing Bex to move faster. She felt so sticky and out of breath, but she needed to find a way out of this jungle.

Bex recognized sand on the horizon and shoved past a hoard of leaves. There was the beach, practically singing her name. Gentle waves crashed against the shore and dragged seaweed along with it. Bex huffed and peered out from her hiding spot. No one was on the beach, not even across the water. This might be her only chance to wash off all the dirt and blood.

Bex ventured out and onto the sand. Her eyes scanned the beach repeatedly as she approached the water. When she felt the waves brush against her boot, she halted, hesitating before getting any closer. She remembered the way this ocean almost swallowed her up.

Now wasn't the time to be scared. The Gamemakers would start using it against her if she didn't toughen up.

So she hardened her skin, pushed all that fear to the back of her mind until there was nothing left. Bex stuck her axe in the wet sand and sat on the shore, allowing the water to wash up on her. Her throat still begged for something – _anything_ – to drink, but she could wait it out. The body can go a few days without water. Hopefully, Johanna could get her a sponsor to send over some.

She hoped Johanna was alright. Phoenix said she'd do everything she could, and Bex believed that.

Rubbing a hand down her face, Bex realized she needed to get back to her allies. She couldn't count on any sponsors if she wasn't keeping up the charade with Finnick. Not to mention, she probably owed them an apology for running away after promising to be allies. Bex had never been that good at apologizing though, and it wasn't like her reaction to Nico's death wasn't _justified_.

She looked down at the water running between her fingers and shivered.

Bex cupped the saltwater and washed her hands. She ran it over her face and tried rubbing the blood off, but it was so caked on that she wasn't sure what to do. A groan resonated from her mouth. She tore out her ponytail, dunked her hair underwater, and began to work through the blood-stained strands. She spat and a clump of blood came out, floating into the ocean.

"Ew," Bex muttered, now picking at her teeth. She wouldn't be surprised if they were stained red.

Voices surface from the trees surrounding her.

"You want to face the Career pack _alone_?" One person whispered loudly.

Another voice – female, one she'd heard before – husked, "No, but we have to do it sometime. Just to get them out of the way, and I want it to be sooner rather than later."

"What we _should_ be doing is looking for any signs of fresh water before we all dehydrate to death. But by all means, Katniss, go take care of your little Career pack revenge plan. Just don't expect us to be here when you get back."

Bex whipped her head up and stood. They were talking up ahead, a few feet from the beach. Bex's hearing had never been that good since her first Games. But her survival instinct had kicked in, and somehow, every single part of her was heightened. Her fingers wrapped around the axe on instinct, recognizing the last voice as it were her own.

_Finnick_.

Not minding the blood and soil still drying on her face, Bex ventured back into the jungle, following the sounds of her allies. She could hear them walking now, traveling into the thick of the trees. Monkeys cried above their heads. Bex ignored them, focusing on Katniss arguing with Finnick, who finally convinced her to not go after the Careers.

They walked about a mile and stopped, finding a nice rock pattern to camp out at. Bex began to run to keep up. She couldn't lose them now. She almost did earlier to her crumbling sanity, but she needed them. _Terribly so._ And she made a promise that she intended on keeping.

Bex hurried and tore down anything in her wake. She hoped they wouldn't be too angry with her, but that would be a given with Katniss around. The girl was practically made of fiery rage, much like Bex.

She didn't have a plan right now. All she knew was that she needed to be with her allies if she wanted to survive this, if she wanted to see a better tomorrow. Plutarch promised her as such.

After hacking one last branch away with her axe, Bex emerged from the dark jungle and approached her group with a wary smile.


	28. DRINK UP

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

#####  **__________________________**

**"HOW** nice of you to finally show up," Finnick said, stabbing the end of his trident into the dirt.

Bex's smile immediately faded, replaced by a bitter frown.

Mags slowly hobbled over to her, despite Finnick's warning to not overwork herself. She didn't listen. Mags was clearly an independent spirit, not taking orders from anyone. She reached up and placed a hand on Bex's shoulder, sending her a thin smile. "Are you okay?" She asked in a soft murmur.

"I'm fine," she assured the older Victor, setting her hand on top of hers. Bex's fingers were warm against Mags' wrinkled hand. "Thank you, Mags."

Mags bowed her head and walked back over to Finnick, who Bex turned to next. Her head snapped in his direction, eyes narrowed with contempt. "Sue me for getting spooked. I saw a man I've known for years die and I almost drowned because I can't swim. I needed to run it off."

Eyes flickering over to Katniss, Bex noticed Peeta handing her his blade. Katniss tried to keep it concealed, but they were all trained killers. Everyone saw it. Finnick put out a hand. "She's with us. We're all allies," he said evenly, and Katniss sent him a scowl. His voice turned grave. "She's with _me_."

Katniss released a fake laugh, "Yeah, okay."

"You're not the only star-crossed lovers anymore," Finnick challenged. "Make some room."

Bex waved a hand to break up the fight, and then glared at Katniss. "What is up with your attitude? We all agreed to trust each other at the Cornucopia earlier."

"Maybe I thought over where my loyalties lied when you _ran away_ from us," Katniss barked back.

Peeta whistled at the silence. Bex's eyes formed into slits.

Finnick rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Can we all just drop this? Arguing is not going to get us anywhere." He interjected, and Mags agreed with a strong nod. Finnick turned back to Bex. "Why is your head covered in blood?"

Bex picked up a few strands of wet hair and realized how much she hadn't gotten out. One hand went to the top of her head, where she still felt a slimy, sticky substance. Her fingers were still stained as well. She grimaced.

"Well," she exhaled, plopping down on top of a rock in front of her, "two tributes were hung up in the trees. Their intestines were everywhere. It looked like someone was striving to make it appear as a threat. It was probably the Career pack trying to scare everyone else. I got drenched in their blood. And then somehow almost walked into an invisible barrier."

"It might have something to do with the forcefield surrounding the arena. It's a dome," Katniss explained. She picked up a pebbled and turned her back to them, throwing the stone in front of her. After a few feet, an invisible forcefield sizzled and the pebbled bounced off. "We're at the edge of the arena right now."

Bex's eyes flickered to Peeta, who was sitting a couple of rocks in front of her. She noticed some of his hair had been singed off. Even a portion of his wet suit was burnt and discolored. "What happened to you, Peeta?"

"I walked into the forcefield," he said, laughing nervously. "It electrifies you."

Her brow knitted together. _Hoe does this boy always seem to live?_

Katniss spun back to face her and wiped the sweat pouring down her forehead. "If you're done with the questions, let's set up camp."

Bex scoffed, "I've been gone for hours while you guys have figured out some parts of the arena. _Sorry_ if I have questions."

" _You_ left on your _own accord_ ," Katniss scowled. "That isn't our problem."

Peeta huffed, "Katniss, stop antagonizing."

"I am _not_ antagonizing."

Bex rolled her eyes. "You kind of are."

" _Enough!_ " Finnick shouted, laying his trident against a tree. "We're done arguing for the night. Let's set up camp here." He turned to Katniss. "We'll be safe with our backs protected and we can take turns sleeping. I'll take first watch."

Katniss released a dry chuckle. "Not a chance."

No one in this alliance seemed to trust Finnick besides Mags, and Bex partially. She guessed she kind of had to if she wanted sponsors. But Katniss and Peeta's hesitation made sense. If Bex were in their positions, she wouldn't trust him either. Finnick's Capitol persona was cocky and slightly rude. It wasn't going to do him any favors in the arena.

Bex still had to trust him if she wanted to survive. Protect Katniss and survive – that was the plan. But sometimes she needed to face the reality of the situation. She'd have to break that trust, let go of the relationship act, and attempt to kill him.

She shivered at the thought.

Averting her stare back to Finnick, she watched him get close to Katniss, stopping inches away from her face. " _Honey_ , that thing I did back there for Peeta? That was called, 'saving his life.' If I wanted to kill either of you, I would've done it by now."

Finnick then walked over to Mags to help her up. An awkward silence ensued. Bex rubbed at the sweat on the back of her neck.

Katniss rolled her eyes and glanced at Peeta. "Why don't you go get some rest? I'll take first watch."

"Just for a little bit," Peeta agreed.

Finnick helped Mags lean back against a slanted tree. She slept soundly beside Peeta, who had one hand beside his head and the other gripping his weapon. Katniss and Finnick sat on top of a few rocks, watching their allies, taking in their surroundings. The darkness made it hard to see, but they guessed the Careers were too tired from the bloodbath to come out tonight.

Bex was going to find a place to sleep when Finnick patted the spot next to him. She swallowed hard, and it was painful from the lack of water in her system. It would be stupid to refuse his invitation. So she walked over and leaned against the rocks, trying to find a suitable position.

"That looks really uncomfortable," he commented, causing her eyes to snap open. "Come here, Bex."

She sat up, noticing that he was patting his leg. Bex had spent too many years in the Capitol to know what that meant. But Finnick's eyes were more gentle than her courtiers. She exhaled softly and scooted close to him, resting her head on his muscled leg. Her eyes closed. She cuddled her axe under her arm as if it were a stuffed bear.

His hand went to her hair, pushing back the wet strands.

Bex didn't move. She was too tired to fight it, but she knew what he was doing. And he was good. The audience watching them must be giggling with excitement.

She reached over and took the hand caressing her hair. Their hands laced together as she let herself fall into a deep sleep, listening to Finnick's breathing.

Katniss rolled her eyes once again.

Bex didn't know how long she was out, but it couldn't have been long. When her eyes snapped open as the Panem anthem began to play, it felt like she hadn't slept a wink. She tilted her head to the sky, but didn't move her head from Finnick's leg.

It must've been close to midnight. They were playing the Fallen, reminding the survivors who they had killed today. For once in her life, Bex didn't feel a sliver of guilt. The pair from District Five flashed across the sky, the two she saw hung up in the trees by their intestines. Then, the male morphling from District Six. She snapped his neck.

Bex's breathing was shallow as the memories resurfaced. Mags and Peeta stirred from their sleep.

Nico was next. They showed one of his Capitol portraits, and Bex finally sat up, much to Finnick's surprise. His hand fell from hers as she sat up, taking in the last image of him forever. Her eyes stung with fresh tears, but she didn't let them fall. Not now, not ever. Nico would find it ridiculous. Instead, Bex released a heavy exhale, sucking them all back in.

Then, it was Woof and Cecelia from District Eight. Bex felt her chest cave in the slightest bit at the portrait of Cecelia, remembering those children she still had back home. They didn't have a mother now. Her husband was alone.

Both tributes from District Nine appeared. Bex had pushed the female off the rocks, and she guessed she drowned after that. After them, it was the female from District Ten, who's name was escaping her, and then Seeder from District Eleven.

The music ended, and they were enveloped by the dark sky once again. Katniss sighed, "Ten."

"Great," Finnick muttered.

As soon as the word left his mouth, Bex heard a familiar chime gliding through the air. She lifted her head more, looking around, but couldn't see anything this late at night. The chime was getting closer, though. She could sense it through the trees.

"Hey," Finnick called from behind, laying his hand on top of hers. "You need to get more rest."

That was when she saw it: a sponsor gift, drifting towards their camp.

"No," Bex said, raising a finger at the steel can landing a few feet away, " _look_."

Katniss snapped her head back as the gift plummeted to the ground. She ran over, ripping off the parachute attached, and brought the gift back. Part of the canister had a small dent from clashing with a boulder, but the object inside stayed nice and safe.

Peeta and Mags sat up slightly, curious to see what was inside. The group huddled around Katniss as she broke open the canister. There was a small, silver tool inside and a note on top that read:

_Drink up._   
_–H_

Katniss furrowed her brow. "Drink up?"

"What is it?" Bex asked, unaware she was still clutching Finnick's hand. The object looked familiar, but she couldn't think of a name.

"I don't know. It's from Haymitch." She turned it over in her hand, and then met everyone's eyes. "I think it's a spile."

Finnick still looked confused. "A _what_?"

 _A spile_. How did she almost not recognize it? Her father used to try to make his own out of wood, and then they would use them on the trees outside for freshwater. This was when they didn't have much money, when they lived in the shack. Before the Games and the riches. Her father's first homemade spile kept them hydrated for a long time, and then it sort of became a hobby for him. He liked to whittle and sell them to neighbors. And then, he began to collect them. That started when he found a used, bronze spile abandoned in the Square. It became a game for him, and those spiles managed to save their family.

After Bex won her first Games, she gifted her father a gold spile with his name engraved on it, bought in the Capitol. He never used it, only kept it on top of his drawer, but it meant more than anything in the world.

Bex's throat was burning again as she watched Katniss run to the nearest tree and beat the spile into the thick bark with a rock.

"You use it to get drinking water out of a tree," Bex finally said to Finnick.

Upon looking down and seeing their hands entwined, her cheeks heated up. She slowly slipped her fingers from his and followed Katniss to the tree, along with everyone else.

Katniss kneeled in front of the tree, mumbling to herself. Bex couldn't hear quite what she was saying, but it sounded a lot like a plea. Finnick insisted Mags stay put before joining Peeta and Bex, begging silently with Katniss. They needed water, _desperately_. Bex was not going to allow drowning or dehydration to kill her in this arena. She wanted to go down the hard way. But first, she _needed water_.

"Come on," Katniss whispered, grabbing the spine on the tree.

They waited for a minute longer. The seconds dragged on and on. They were started to lose hope.

And then came the water.

Out of nowhere, fresh, cool water started pouring out of the spile, and Katniss immediately brought her mouth to it, taking as much as she could. Bex, withering throat and all, pushed through everyone and ducked her head under the spile, inviting the water in. She had never tasted anything better in her life. Not even the fruity drinks in the Capitol could measure up to this. For a few seconds, she allowed the water to cascade over her head. Memories danced across her closed eyes, and she remembered her dad teaching her how to use a spile as a child.

After taking one last gulp, she moved out of the way, and Peeta quickly claimed her spot. He kept drinking until he was tired, and then moved for Finnick to take his place. Bex watched him not drink as much as the others. Finnick only took one heaping gulp before splashing water on his face and yanking a big leaf off a tree. He filled it the best he could and brought it over to Mags, who accepted it gratefully.

When she noticed the spot was free, Bex rapidly slid underneath the spile. She released a breath of relief as the water ran over her stained hands, and then she filled her mouth with it again.

The burning in her throat had ceased, but that didn't mean another fire wasn't on the horizon.


	29. PLAYING IT UP

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

#####  **__________________________**

** MAGS ** assured Finnick she was hydrated as she sucked down the third serving he brought over for her. Bex watched him care for the elder Victor with keen eyes, taking in the way he helped her fall back to sleep. He crafted a pillow made from leaves just for her. Mags was out in minutes, laying delicately against a rock.

Katniss and Peeta drank as much water as they could before the Girl on Fire warned them they should be saving the spile for future endeavors. Finnick whispered, "Wait," as Katniss' hand was on the hilt of the spile. He plucked another large leaf and cupped a hand around it, filling it with water. Katniss yanked the spile out after, hiding it in one of the sleeves of her wet suit.

Bex assumed Finnick was going to gulp down the last of the water, but then he was sprinting over to her, careful not to spill. Her brow furrowed. He sat down in front of her, crossing his legs on the rock, and dipped his fingers in the water. He began to wash the thin streaks of blood and grime still stained to her cheeks. His hands were slightly dirty and there was dirt underneath his fingernails, but Bex allowed him to touch her as if he knew what he was doing.

Finnick avoided her eyes, but her stare lingered on his face for a long time. The wrinkles lining his eyes were deep from lack of sleep, and sweat gathered at his hairline, slowly dripping down the sides of his face. It was then, submerging herself back into his sea-green irises, that Bex remembered how easy it had been to like him when he visited Seven. And when she nearly kissed him. Twice. It had been almost  _ too easy _ .

Bex Nassar certainly wasn't the first girl to be charmed by Finnick Odair. She just wondered if the butterflies in her stomach would ever fade.

They decided to use the last couple of hours of darkness to sleep. Despite the bags under her eyes getting heavier and heavier, Katniss took second watch with Peeta. With their backs slumped against a tree, Finnick curled his arms around Bex and allowed her to rest her head in the crook of his neck. She could tell that he was really playing up the relationship act, and frankly, she was too tired to object. She fell asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat, to the scent of saltwater on his skin, and she wondered how this would feel every night in the comfort of her own bed.

A blaring alarm woke them up not even an hour later.

The tributes sat up, startled, as a high-pitched gong sound reverberated across the arena. They looked around, trying to figure out where it was coming from, if it was a weapon. But nothing happened. It was just an alarm ... or a warning. They sat there and listened. No one breathed.

When the gongs ended, Katniss looked to her allies. "I counted twelve."

Finnick furrowed his brow. "Midnight?"

"Or the number of Districts."

As the words left her mouth, an electric whirring echoed in the distance. Clouds gathered over one section of the arena, and they could just about see it from their camp. Lightning crackled and then struck a single tree. A heavy rain shower followed soon after. Bex's lips parted at the sight, light reflecting in her black stare.

Peeta and Katniss shared a look, but didn't say anything. Mags went back to sleep. Finnick muttered, "Weird," before leaning against the tree once again. Something about the storm still rattled Bex though, and she found it hard to rest again. She leaned back and closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come to her, but nothing happened. Her body was denying it, even as her bones ached and begged for a few hours of peace.

Insects buzzed around her. Bex tried to ignore their sounds and focused on Finnick's breathing again. She tried to put herself back into a memory, just to ease her conscious. She wanted to remind herself of when they slept in her bed together, and they both woke from a nightmare, and the way Finnick made her forget all about it just by holding her close. The memory sent shivers down her spine, despite the extremely warm weather. Finally, she relaxed enough to fall asleep –

And then Katniss started screaming.

"WAKE UP!"

Bex sat up so fast that she banged her head against the tree trunk. Immediately, she noticed the fog beginning to envelop the camp. "RUN!" Katniss yelped, several bumps forming on her hand. "THE FOG IS POISON!"

Finnick helped Bex to her feet, grabbing their weapons along with them. The fog was everywhere, sifting through the trees. Bex could make out Peeta picking up Katniss, and then Finnick hauling Mags on his back. Disoriented, Bex almost didn't feel Katniss' hand locked around her arm until the younger girl was pulling her forward.

They ran through the night, the fog not far off their trail. Peeta was leading the group and cutting down any branches in their path. Bex struggled to keep up. Her body was tired and all she wanted was to rest. The fog was engulfing them on all sides. Bex was pretty sure she could smell it. It smelled like rain and flowers, practically inviting her in. The scent overwhelmed her senses, leaving her head cloudy and her vision tainted.

Her foot caught on a branch, sending her tumbling to the ground. Bex huffed and kept her forehead to the ground. Katniss was screaming her name, yelling at her to get up, but it sounded like a soft echo in her ears. She knew she needed to stand. But she couldn't. She needed to rest.

The fog reached out to her, skimming her exposed skin.

Bex shrieked louder than ever before.

Her skin felt like it was on fire. Every exposed inch was burning as if the fog was eating her alive. Large bumps erupted on her neck, hands, and sides of her face. She tried getting to her feet and running, but the fog caused her eyes to sting. Before she could trip again, Katniss caught her, and then hoisted Bex on her back as if she were a child.

Despite her injuries, Bex did  _ not  _ let go of that axe.

She blinked, hooking her arms around Katniss' neck as they raced through the trees. Bex started to gain her energy back, but the burning didn't cease. The bumps on her skin were monstrous and oozing some kind of mysterious liquid.

Peeta still led the way, even when the fog brushed against his cheek. He didn't falter. Bex hung onto Katniss as much as she could without suffocating her. She could hear Finnick panting from behind. He couldn't be too far off.

Katniss tripped and Bex fell off her back. Her spine slammed into the wet soil, but this time, she managed to get up. Peeta ran over to Katniss, helping her up, but the fog was faster than him. It grazed his face, just hitting his ear, before lightly touching the tip of Bex's nose. She cried out, tugging Peeta and Katniss with her. Looking over her shoulder, Bex realized she couldn't find Finnick. Panic exploded in her chest, and she stopped abruptly, scanning the jungle for a sign.

But just as he and Mags came hurtling through the trees, their screams resonated through the air.

"FINNICK!" His name spilled from her mouth before she could do anything. Bex abandoned Katniss and Peeta almost immediately, dashing through the jungle to get to him. Finnick was at least fifty feet behind them. She watched him tumble across the ground, taking Mags along with him. Bex called his name again, but his response was a thunderous shriek.

"Ah,  _ Gods _ !" Finnick seethed, struggling to haul Mags back on him. "Mags, please! Please! Come on!"

Mags climbed up on him as Bex found them, reaching for Finnick's hand. He didn't hesitate to take it and allowed her to yank them forward.

They had stalled for far too long, though. By the time they found Katniss and Peeta again, the fog was creeping towards them, surrounding the tributes from every angle. Peeta had fallen into the grass with tears running down his scorched face. Katniss pleaded for him to get up as Bex exclaimed, "We have to  _ move _ ."

"We can't.  _ We can't! _ " Katniss sobbed, turning to Finnick and Mags. "I can't carry him. He's too heavy."

Nobody breathed. The fog was getting closer. And when Bex noticed the empathy in Mags' eyes, she knew what the elder Victor was going to do.

As Katniss continued to plead with Peeta to stand, Mags laid a hand on Finnick's shoulder and kissed his brow. She began to hobble backward, right in the direction of the fog, as Finnick called her name. It was soft at first, but grew more desperate as Mags approached the deadly fog.

His voice was hoarse as he screamed, "MAGS!," at the top of his lungs. Bex had never heard anything so loud in her life. Finnick crawled towards the fog, hoping to catch her in time, but Mags was too deep in it. They could just see her silhouette through the clouds before she crumbled.

A cannon went off in the distance.

Finnick didn't stop screaming. His eyes tingled with hot, fresh tears. He was inhaling too much of the fog. Bex tugged on his hand, pulling him to her chest. He coughed and looked at her with bleary eyes. "We  _ have  _ to go, Finnick," she pleaded, squeezing his hand. "We have to get out of here. Don't let Mags die in vain."

He blinked, registering her words. Bex looked past him and noticed the fog two feet away. She yanked on his grip again. Finnick ran a hand through his hair and muttered, "Yeah, okay. Yeah." He slipped his fingers from hers and ran for Peeta, hurling him onto his back. "Come on, Peeta. Come on."

None of them had the strength to run anymore. Katniss and Bex helped hold each other up as they limped across the ground, whimpering softly. Finnick struggled to keep up with Peeta hanging on top of him. The fog was moving at an accelerated speed. It brushed up the back of their necks, sizzling their skin and bursting the lumps that had already formed. Bex felt a thick liquid run down her spine.

Before they knew it, the four Victors were falling. They somersaulted down a cliff and landed in a dirty pit. Soil and wet leaves entered Bex's mouth. She spat them out, blinking rapidly, as she still felt the ooze seeping down her back. Her axe landed a foot away. She could hear the trickling of water somewhere near them. A shiver ran through her body, and all she could do was watch the fog slithered closer to them –

Before stopping abruptly before the cliff.

Bex looked to Katniss with confusion. Katniss' eyes were dead, lifeless, but they still managed to catch the illusion before them. When both girls turned back to the fog, it was pushing up against an invisible barrier, as if the arena was cut off into sections. They had traveled from one part to another, and a forcefield had saved them. But that couldn't be  _ possible _ . That seemed like too easy of an escape, unless ... something else would soon follow.

As the fog dissipated into nothing, Bex laid her head back on the ground, eyes drifting towards the sky. It was getting lighter. Their cover of darkness was almost up, and she was  _ still  _ exhausted. The silhouette of an animal crawled across a tree branch above, but it was gone as soon as she noticed it. Bex released a light breath and tried lifting her hand, just brushing the tips of her fingers over her cheeks. The large bumps felt solid and stung from just a slight touch. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

She couldn't fight like this. She might as well die right here.

Finnick gasped, and then released a series of whimpers.

It hurt to turn her head, but she did it anyway. Finnick lay a few feet away, covered in mud. Boils scattered across his exposed skin. He went still after shivering for a moment. Bex felt a wash of fear and was determined to get over there.

Pushing herself up on her elbows, she began to crawl through the wet earth. Bex heaved and gasped for air that wasn't in her lungs, but she wouldn't be stopped. "Finnick," she whispered, hoping he would wake. He didn't, his body as motionless as a statue. Bex dug her elbows into the dirt, using all her upper body strength to drag herself over to him. She couldn't let him die. Not today. Not ever.

Years later, Bex would wonder if seeing him close to death was the first time she realized she cared about him, immensely and feverishly. Or maybe it was her survival mode kicking in again. She had never been too sure.

With one last pull, she laid right beside him, and she sat there for a moment, just catching her breath. Her body was on fire, so you could imagine her surprise when she touched Finnick's skin and found it cold. It felt like he had been frozen in ice for a year. Her eyes darted around, wondering what she could do, but she came up with nothing.

He breathed in too much of the fog while carrying Mags and Peeta. That had to be the reason. But what was the solution?

His lips moved slightly, as if he was trying to tell her something, while his eyes remained closed. Bex could see them moving underneath his lids.

She finally let the tears stream down her cheeks, and she truly didn't know if they were real or just an act. Maybe she'd never know. Her bumpy hands trembled as she reached out and cupped his face. Her fingers felt scorchingly hot when she brushed them over his mouth. A tear dropped on the tip of his cupid's bow and slid down to his lips.

" _ Please _ ." Bex didn't realize how desperate her words sounded until they came out. "Finnick, please, wake up. Look at me."

His body didn't move. But she noticed his lips purse, tasting her tear.

"Look at me, Finnick," she begged, voice rough and defeated. "I can't do this without you."

And finally, as if some God had heard her plea, Finnick's eyes fluttered. Bex croaked out a gasp. Her hands were shaking so much that she could barely hold his face, but he felt it, even as his whole body burned with the intensity of a hundred suns. Bex, without thinking, placed her forehead on his, and breathed in the saltwater that still lingered on his skin. Somehow, it outlasted the grime and blood coating his entire body.

A ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips. "You're good at playing it up, Flower Girl."


	30. KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER THIRTY

#####  **__________________________**

**THE** horrified expression on Bex's face disappeared completely. She watched Finnick's lips pull into a wider grin.

"You're _infuriating_." She seethed, voice dropping to a whisper. "Was that all just an act to make me worried? Consider me fooled, _asshole_."

He dropped the smirk as a ripple of pain flowed through his body. " _Perhaps_ ," he replied, teeth clenched, "you should be consoling and not yelling at me if you want a sponsor gift."

Bex had no problem sending him a glare.

Katniss cried out in agony.

The other three tributes turned to see that Katniss had crawled over to a small pool at the bottom of the dirt pit they fell in. She slowly dunked her whole body in it, washing away the bumps as if they were never there. "The water –" She croaked. "The water helps."

Peeta didn't question her and quickly followed suit. He pushed himself over to the pond and placed one hand in. Groaning loudly, Peeta used all the strength left in him to push himself underwater, allowing it to cleanse his bumpy skin.

When Bex looked back at Finnick, his eyes were bleary, red with fresh tears. He nodded in her direction, and she took that as a sign to start pulling him over to the pool. Bex placed her hands underneath his armpits, digging her fingers into his wetsuit, and tried dragging him across the dirt. It was strenuous work: carrying him while also dealing with her own pain. But she still did it, whether it be for a sponsor gift or not. She did it because she needed him either way.

Bex Nassar wasn't going to die today, and neither was he.

Finnick entered the pool first, and he howled obscenities as soon as Bex helped them both in. She tried not to echo his reaction when the water swept over her bumpy skin. But it was hard. This felt even worse than the fog brushing against her neck, or when one of the bumps burst and leaked down her back. It hurt because the water was curing it, and Bex knew cures didn't come without a cost.

She laid there for a while, letting the water do it's work, rubbing at the lumps on her cheeks. When she finally got the ability to feel her fingertips, she raised her hand from the water, realizing her skin was bump-free. Not even a burn mark was visible. She sat up and noticed that the whole pool was filled with the inky fog that once swirled beneath their skin. It was amazing, really, what nature could do.

After dipping her entire head under – and releasing a blood-curdling scream in the process – Bex's body was completely clean. She swam over to Finnick, where he laid idly in the pool, panting whenever the water hit his exposed flesh. She cupped some water and helped wash his wounds, allowing the fog to fade into the pool. He thrashed around a bit, gasped for air, but he eventually calmed down when he found the strength to move again.

"Are you still numb?" Bex asked. She held him down with one hand when he had been thrashing, and then helped him wash up with the other.

Finnick breathed heavily and flexed his hand. "N – No," he said, sitting up in the water. "I – I think – I'm okay."

Bex released a relieved huff as Katniss instructed Peeta to get their weapons. He laid them on the side of the pool before grabbing his blade. Bex watched him try to cut off a tree root with great difficulty, so she stood and walked over with her axe. After a quick lesson, Peeta was able to successfully chop off a thick hollow root. He used it as a cup to catch water from the spile.

As Katniss commended Peeta for being a genius, Bex splashed through the pool again and picked up Finnick from where he was laying. He was still trying to catch his breath and regain feeling back in his legs, but for the most part, he was a lot better than before. Bex sat behind him, allowing Finnick to lay his head on her chest, and ran the water over her neck again. She couldn't stop thinking of the bumps that were once on her skin, how they burned.

Animals howled in the distance, but they didn't move.

Bex watched Katniss and Peeta sit together on the edge of the pool, chatting as if they just weren't fighting for their lives. Peeta placed a stray hair behind Katniss' ear, and Bex was surprised to see her blush. It wasn't fake. She could spot the difference easily.

With her eyes pinned on the lethal lovers, Bex blurted softly, "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

Finnick turned his head up, narrowing his brow. Bex hadn't expected that apology either. She said it on impulse. Averting her eyes away from Katniss and Peeta, she rubbed at the back of her neck. "I was actually worried," she continued, refusing to look at him, "and I took it out on you."

"You had a right to," Finnick chuckled. "I was kind of an ass. Again."

Bex hesitantly picked up one of his hands and rubbed water into it. The few small bumps that still lingered on his knuckles faded away. Fog dissipated into the pond.

She then added, "And I'm sorry about Mags. She was a courageous woman."

Finnick went silent. He sat up and away from her suddenly, swatting at a bug. "She was never going to make it, so ..."

Bex stared at him for a long time, watching him rub water into his other hand, refusing to meet her eyes. Finally, he looked over, exhaling through his nose. His expression went soft, a silent response on his face. He didn't need to say anything more.

"I was hoping she would," Bex muttered, searching his eyes.

"Me too," he said quickly, looking off to run water through his hair. "I would've liked to walk the beach with her in Four one last time."

Bex gnawed on her bottom lip, hesitating on her next set of words.

"Can I see it sometime?"

Finnick stared back at her, wondering if she was serious. He went completely still, and then allowed a small smile to form on his lips. "That's a nice dream."

Bex didn't have a spare moment to question him. They heard Katniss nock an arrow, and the two tributes stood up instantly. Katniss slowly moved in a circle with her weapon. Peeta was blissfully unaware as he filled the root cup with more drinking water.

Monkeys began to crawl along the branches around them. They watched the tributes, circling them like prey. It was hard to believe that these monkeys could try to kill them, but Bex had to remind herself that these were mutts, not just animals anymore. Trained by the Capitol to kill. And they were _everywhere_.

Finnick steadily grabbed the axe from the edge of the pond, handing it Bex swiftly. He then seized his trident and pointed it at the monkeys. They seemed to be getting closer, grunting, hovering just above the water.

Katniss looked over her shoulder at the Cornucopia. Bex saw it, and when Katniss met her eyes, she knew that was where they needed to go. That's if they could escape these mutts.

"Peeta," Katniss called, "walk over here slowly."

With a furrowed brow, Peeta yanked the spile out of the tree and secured it in his suit. But then he looked forward, meeting the eyes of a very angry monkey.

The mutt roared in his direction, bearing its sharp teeth. Peeta stumbled back, but Bex managed to catch him, helping him retreat slowly. The four tributes huddled together, turning around in a circle as the mutts stalked them. They howled, banging their fists against the tree bark.

Peeta whispered, "I always feel bad about killing animals."

Bex held her axe out and seethed in Peeta's direction, "That doesn't matter right now!" When she looked in front of her, a mutt was edging closer to the pool, howling in her direction.

"Bex," Finnick breathed, "get behind me."

"No," she spat back, "I can fight _for myself_.

" _Shut up_ ," Katniss growled. "We need to get to the beach."

They turned towards their escape route, but it was being blocked by two monkeys. The mutts were bouncing on the branches, pacing in front of the pool, roaring at the top of their lungs. Bex's eyes went wide. They were surrounding them. She didn't know where to look or when they would strike.

Finally, one monkey lunged for Peeta.

Katniss pushed him out of the way, taking the monkey down with one arrow to the heart. The rest of the mutts charged then, jumping into the pond and clawing at the tributes. Peeta waved his blade in front of them, clearly nervous to hurt the animals, but Katniss didn't let anything near him. She was ruthless with a bow.

Finnick fought off mutts left and right. Bex used the close proximity of the monkeys to her advantage. As soon as they were near a specific distance, she cut them off with a clean sweep. Heads rolled. Sweat beaded at her brow. She was fully awake now, and nothing was going to stop her. But the mutts weren't stopping their attack either.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bex saw a large monkey – almost two times her body weight – leap for her. She didn't have enough time to move. The mutt pounced on top of her, sinking its claws through her wetsuit and then her skin. They felt like switchblades. It clung to her shoulders as its weight sent Bex down into the water, creating a large splash.

Bex couldn't believe she was going to drown again, and this time, _by a monkey_.

The mutt kept pushing her further to the bottom of the pond, snapping its large fangs at her face. Bex tried holding her breath for as long as she could. She shielded herself with the handle of her axe, but it wasn't enough. Once this monkey drowned her, she'd be it's dinner this evening. Bex screamed, allowing water into her lungs once again, as she fought to push the mutt off.

It kept getting closer though, dangerously close to her face. It was inches away from biting the tip of her nose right off. Bex could hardly see. Her hair floated all around. She pushed harder against the monkey's grip, head becoming cloudy, and it seemed to lose momentum. She just needed to get up for air and then slice it's head right off –

The mutt released a muffled yelp as a weapon pierced its fur. Bex blinked twice, wondering if the water had gone to her head finally, if what she was seeing was real. Blood swirled around her. The monkey went limp as she was yanked out of the pool by someone's strong grip.

She gasped for air as soon as she came up, rubbing at her red eyes. Bex didn't even have a second to thank Finnick, because their escape route was finally free. Peeta screamed, "We gotta get to the beach!" He grabbed Katniss' hand and led her forward. Bex and Finnick followed close behind, hands locked around their weapons.

The mutts still followed. Bex didn't quite understand how the beach would provide them any protection, but she needed to trust these people if she had to protect them. She trailed the lethal lovers, swiping at any mutts that tried to block their path. When she looked ahead, Bex noticed that dawn was creeping on the horizon. The sunlight might be their only protection from the monsters that lurked inside the dark jungle.

A mutt attacked from behind then, jumping on Peeta's back as they slid underneath a branch. It tackled him to the ground, pinning him against a tree. Another mutt blocked Katniss' path while snapping its teeth at her. Bex ran forward, ambushing the mutt, and sliced its head right off. Her shoulders still ached in pain from the monkey's claws that pierced her skin. Katniss held in her cry as the head rolled towards her feet, but they still had the mutt on top of Peeta to worry about.

He screamed bloody murder.

Before anyone could think, a figure emerged from beneath the tree cover. It looked female, covered head-to-toe in camouflage. They jumped in front of Peeta just as the monkey tried lunging for him, and its teeth locked around the person's neck. Blood splattered over Peeta's face as he kicked the monkey off and stabbed it in the throat.

The tributes continued to fight off the monkeys, but they kept piling on. More and more appeared from the dark jungle, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. Peeta looked down at his savior, who was wheezing excessively. Their whole body shook from side-to-side. "It's one of the morphlings," Peeta exclaimed. "The girl from District Six."

Bex stabbed another mutt through the chest and lashed her head towards Peeta, recognizing the girl in his arms. Despite the dirt coating her entire body, her sunken-in eyes and sickly form gave her away. Bex was suddenly filled with regret. She killed her District partner in a fit of manic, and now the girl had to die alone.

Peeta, to everyone's surprise, grabbed the morphling girl and called out, "Come on! We're almost there!"

Finnick whipped his trident around a whole circle of mutts, the blade slicing through each of their torsos. Bex tugged on his hand hard. When he looked at her, his once lively sea-green irises looked tired, and she wasn't sure if it was from pure exhaustion or being thrust into this life. Bex yanked on his hand again and dashed after Katniss and Peeta. They gripped each other tightly as the light sky got closer and closer.

Peeta and Katniss were dragging the morphling into the water when Bex and Finnick finally jumped onto the sand, tumbling together, hands interlocked. Finnick heaved and laid in the sand. He tried feeling for his trident. Bex's axe fell away from her as they landed, too far for her reach. Instead, she slipped the trident right from Finnick's clammy hands, aiming it at the mutts. They formed in a tight line around the edge of the jungle, where the sand met the dirt.

Bex jutted the trident as they snarled viciously, but neither of the mutts moved. She wondered if this were a trick, where they waited for her to let her guard down, and then attack. But after several minutes of jabbing the trident at the mutts and clenching her teeth so hard they could fall out, her enemies didn't move a muscle. They soon stopped howling, and finally, disappeared back into the jungle.

Pursing her lips, Bex slowly lowered the trident. The mutts left them alone, but _why_? Did they only attack at certain times? Her brow furrowed with confusion.

With a heavy exhale, Bex fell back into the sand, right beside Finnick. She wiped off the gravel that stuck to her face and laid there, just catching her breath.

Finnick lifted his head and glanced over at her. He said playfully, "My knight in shining armor."

Her eyes snapped open. "Don't get used to it."


	31. TICK-TOCK

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

#####  **__________________________**

**PEETA** Mellark had a good heart. He comforted his savior by bringing her to the ocean as her wounds bled out, allowing her to see the sunrise one last time. Finnick and Bex watched from their spot on the beach. The morphling girl heaves soon turned into steady breaths as her eyes followed the sun over the horizon, wanting the light to drink her in. "It's okay," Peeta told her. "Look at that. It's incredible, isn't it? All those colors. Don't worry about anything else."

The girl eventually fell limp in his arms, and Peeta let go, allowing her to float further into the ocean. A cannon went off a moment later.

She must have been part of Plutarch's promise too. Why else would she have saved Peeta so unexpectedly? This meant that District Six was part of their alliance, and Bex had killed one of them with her bare hands. Guilt swirled in her stomach as she watched the morphling float away.

Katniss and Peeta continued to stand there, hand-in-hand, watching the corpse meander farther into the water, towards the Cornucopia. Bex didn't know why, but the sight made her grateful for Finnick too, just to have him sitting beside her. She glanced over at him, but he was too focused on the hovercraft touching down from the sky. As the morphling's body was collected, Bex reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. Finnick finally turned towards her and squeezed back.

Somehow, Bex was able to hear the chime of sponsor gift over the hovercraft flying away and the waves trying to lick at their feet. She tilted her head up, watching the small, steel canister wander through the air, before landing at least ten feet away in the sand. Bex got to her feet and ran over. Ripping open the canister, she found another tin waiting inside, along with a note that read:

_For your wounds._

_–J_

Inside the tin was a mound of green ointment.

Bex grinned from ear-to-ear. Johanna had come through after all.

Although the pond water had removed the fog hidden underneath their skin, scars and slight burn marks remained. Bex was hopeful that this ointment could help with any irritation that lingered from the fog poisoning. She rubbed it into her knuckles and back of her neck, where the skin was still slightly crusted over. Blood crusted on her shoulder from one of the mutts' claws, so she smeared the ointment on her wounds. She then shared it with Katniss, who massaged the ointment onto her cheeks and hands. Both girls felt a cool sensation once the medication sunk into their skin.

Finnick was teaching Peeta to catch a fish for them to eat when Bex walked through the water with her sponsor gift. The sun was rising, casting hues of pink and orange on their faces, and Bex concluded that this kind of light was made for people like Finnick. He shined in the morning glow, sending her a smile that made his lovers croon. Bex even felt herself go weak in the knees at it. His laugh sounded like music as she slathered ointment on his cheekbone and neck, where the fog had infected him the most. Finnick complained that he was trying to give Peeta fishing lessons, but Bex continued on. Maybe it was just to hear him laugh again.

Her blush was very apparent. It even had Peeta chuckling.

After allowing Peeta to use some of the medicine, Bex decided to save the last of it for another dire circumstance. She hid it in the sleeve of her wetsuit for safekeeping, and then laid back down in the sand. The sound of the gentle ocean calmed her heartbeat. She almost forgot that she was close to drowning in it a day before.

Finnick and Peeta walked back over to the beach shortly after, a fish in each of their hands. The younger boy managed to catch a fish on his first try. They shared one fish between two of them, splitting it in half, and ate them raw. A fire would attract attention. Bex ripped through the fresh meat with her teeth, savoring the salty flavor. She hadn't eaten a lot of fish before. It was a rare and expensive food in Seven. Even when she had the money to buy it, neither her nor Keaton favored it. But on an empty stomach, this was all she could ever want.

As they ate, another sponsor gift soared through the trees and landed in the sand. It was bread for Finnick. The loaf was fish-shaped and tinted green with salt sprinkled on the top. Bex's upper lip curled in disgust. "Relax," Finnick said, tugging off a piece with his teeth. "It's made with seaweed."

He really wasn't making it sound more appealing.

Peeta finished the half of his fish and licked at his fingers. "What kind of fish was that, Finnick?"

With a mouth full of bread, Finnick replied, "Looked like trout. Probably manufactured by the Capitol."

Bex wiped her mouth and smiled. "The same kind of fish you used to talk about that would go in your fish pie?

"Hey," he chuckled, "you gotta deal with what you can catch."

Her stomach was doing somersaults at the sound of his laugh.

She wondered if she was blushing again, because Peeta then asked, "How long have you two known each other?"

Bex and Finnick shared a look, wondering how much they should reveal. In all honesty, she had met Finnick at her Victor coronation. After the crown had been placed on her head from Snow's grimy hands, they had a party at his mansion, where he invited all the past Victors and just about everyone in the Capitol. It was there that she saw Finnick Odair for the first time, freshly sixteen, flocked by women ten times his age. Bex hadn't even introduced herself, but she knew Finnick Odair's type – or at least, she _thought_ she did – and she vowed to never become an arrogant Victor. After that, they only spoke from time-to-time at Capitol functions. It wasn't until this year that she was introduced to the _real_ Finnick, and she liked that person very much.

But she would never admit that. Not now, at least.

Instead, Bex said, "Many years," before tearing into her fish again.

"You both probably liked each other even before that," Peeta laughed. "Doesn't that happen with beloved Victors?"

Bex teetered her head to the side before looking at Finnick again. He was smirking from ear-to-ear, as if to say, _Go on_.

"Well, Finnick is ..." She sent him a similar sneer. "... Quite the charmer. As always."

When they faced their allies again, Peeta was smiling. Katniss, however, suspiciously arched a brow.

"Is it even _real_?" She asked in a harsh tone. "Or is your whole relationship fake?"

Finnick put a hand on her knee, but Bex was already releasing a fake laugh. "I'm sure you would be an expert in that department, wouldn't you, Katniss?"

The younger girl glared. She was silent, but it was clear to Bex that she wasn't backing down. Her grey eyes could cut like daggers. Finnick removed his hand and used it to rub the back of his neck, keeping his head down.

Bex didn't want to have to deal with Katniss' attitude for another second. She couldn't believe that she agreed to protect this girl at all costs. Bex stood up and discarded the rest of her fish. As she gripped her axe, she sent a scowl towards Katniss. "Our relationship is none of your business," she fumed, walking away from the group.

Katniss needed a serious reality check, but Bex wouldn't be the one to give it. She just needed to survive and hope Plutarch was going to get them all out of here. But at this point, it seemed unlikely that anyone _but_ Katniss was going to be saved. There was a reason Plutarch didn't want to reveal too much.

Stomping towards the seashore, Bex took in the salt wafting off the water. She was steps away from washing the sand off her hands when a set of screams rang through the air. From behind her, the three other Victors stood up with their weapons. Bex straightened her back and listened closely, but the screams stopped almost abruptly.

On the other side of the arena, water rose up and over the trees, ricocheting through the lush jungle. The wave tore down several trees in its wake, storming through them and colliding with the beach. A cannon fired in the distance.

Finnick gripped Bex's arm and pulled her back as the swell cascaded across the water, pushing against the Cornucopia. It then sent a ripple onto the other end of the arena, crashing against the shore, where the four Victors stood with puzzled expressions. There must've been another pond of freshwater on that side, but that wave wasn't natural. It had to have been a ploy by the Gamemakers.

They watched for several minutes. Bex wasn't sure how much time had passed before a hovercraft came for the body, but it felt long.

"Someone's here," Katniss whispered, arrow at the ready.

More screams echoed, but they sounded closer. The four hid behind a cover of trees, but Bex was still able to make out two figures hobbling out of the jungle just across the beach. They were both drenched in blood. Holding onto each other, they walked towards the ocean to wash off. Bex narrowed her eyes and noticed that one of them – the taller figure – was holding an electric coil.

Katniss put her arm over everyone and muttered, "Get back."

"No, wait," Bex said, scrutinizing the two Victors. She recognized the tall figure's black-rimmed glasses. "That's Beetee and Wiress. They're our allies."

Finnick, being the biggest one out of their group, sprinted first, followed by Bex, and then Peeta and Katniss. They stopped several feet in front of the older Victors, hiding their weapons behind their backs, careful not to scare them. Wiress was crawling through the water when Beetee finally noticed them approach.

Finnick put out a hand – a calm, surrendering gesture. "Beetee," he nodded towards him and looked to his District partner. "Wiress." She didn't acknowledge him, just continued to play in the water. Bex's brow shot up.

"Well," Beetee chuckled, cleaning off his glasses, "it's good to see some friendly faces around here."

Bex walked to stand beside Finnick. "What happened to you two?"

"It's kind of a funny story," Beetee replied. From behind, Wiress started to crawl from the ocean, but she was nowhere near clean. "We were all the way deep into the jungle, where I thought Wiress and I would be safe. That's when the rain started. We expected water. But it turned out to be blood."

Wiress limped over and clutched her tribute partner's arm. "Tick-tock," she muttered. " _Tick tock_."

Beetee rubbed at his back when Wiress placed her other hand on it. "It was all coming down and choking us. We were stumbling around, gagging on it, _blind_."

This was suddenly sounding a lot like when Bex found the District Five tributes in the trees, when their blood dripped into her aching throat.

"Tick-tock," Wiress whispered, interrupting Bex's memory when she then gripped her arm.

"You call _that_ a funny story?" She asked, placing one hand on Wiress' shoulder. Bex looked in her eyes, trying to keep her focus, but Wiress' stare was darting everywhere. From Bex, to the ocean, to the trees.

"What's wrong with her?" Katniss lifted her chin towards Wiress.

Beetee stood from the water and wiped his wet hands on his suit. "She's in shock."

"Tick-tock," Wiress added.

"Dehydration isn't helping," he continued, walking towards his coil. "Do you have fresh water?"

Peeta nodded. "We can get some."

Wiress repeated herself three more times, stumbling over to Finnick and shaking his arm. Katniss, sensing Finnick's frustration walked over to Wiress and grasped her shoulders, leading her towards the ocean. "Let's get you cleaned up," she said in her nicest tone.

Beetee approached Bex and Finnick with a grim expression. "It's been hard getting Wiress around the arena. She hasn't been in this situation for years. But I'll do it for the Mockingjay, and a brighter future." He rubbed at the end of his nose. "Now, how about some food?"

But Katniss still heard him. And she turned at just the right time with a furrowed brow. She didn't have a moment to question Beetee though, because Wiress was tugging her towards the water, chanting, "Tick-tock," like a song. Katniss repeated the phrase with a nod.

It took a bit of struggling, but Katniss finally got Wiress to sit in the ocean so she could help wash off the blood. She ran water through her crusted hair and scrubbed. Wiress only continued to utter, "Tick, tock," towards Katniss, except sometimes it would be a mere whisper, while other times she preferred to shout it right in the teenager's eardrums.

Sitting by the edge of the beach was Finnick and Peeta, allowing the light swell to run across their legs. Their chat seemed friendly from far away. No one would ever realize that they were discussing strategies to get to the Careers while chomping down on bit-sized, square rolls. Beetee shared them. He received the rolls early this morning from a sponsor – all twenty-four of them. Bex almost couldn't believe it. _Twenty-four rolls_.

Her stomach churned with jealousy. She wouldn't be surprised if she were turning green. Although the bread rolls were small, she couldn't believe a Victor as old as Beetee was able to score such a good gift. He must be a big deal in the Capitol, or a lot of people were rooting for District Three out there. It was cruel to think so less of him – especially when he was a Victor, much like herself – but Bex couldn't help her jealousy when all she received was some ointment.

Johanna would've tried punching her in the face if she heard her thoughts right now. Bex didn't want to know how much effort it took to secure that gift.

Beetee was dusting the sand off his wire when Bex walked over. He then began rolling it up again, trying to secure it in place for some unknown reason. Bex stood in front of him, casting a shadow, and swung the axe over her shoulder. "Did you get that at the Cornucopia?"

"I took a knife in the back to get it," he replied, continuing his work, "but it was all worth it."

Bex arched a trimmed brow. "How does that even help you? Are you going to strangle people with it?"

Beetee finally met her eyes, looking at her as if she was mad. Bex wasn't prone to asking stupid questions, but they did come out once in a blue moon.

"You can't be serious," he muttered.

She shrugged, twirling the axe in her hand.

Beetee adjusted his glasses. "Do you know how I won my Games, girl?"

"Clearly, not."

It was true. Bex didn't really keep track of the older Victors. His victory was very much before her time, so she never once looked into it. Perhaps, it would've been wise to before entering the Quell, but she was filled with too much pent-up anxiety to bother.

Beetee finally laughed. He looked off into the distance, recalling a memory. "I got electrical supplies from the Cornucopia and made a trap that killed the final six tributes in my arena. There's a lot you can do with just this coil."

She opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of lightning interrupted her thought process completely. In fact, the whole group of Victors turned to the other end of the arena, where large, black clouds hovered over a tree. Lightning struck the tree several times, turning the few leaves it had left into ash and smoke. Bex narrowed her eyes. That same tree was struck yesterday too, which meant there was a pattern here. Different things were happening at different times in the arena.

"Tick-tock!" Wiress shouted.

That was when Katniss knew. They could all see the gears turning in her head when she turned to the other tributes. "It's a clock! The arena is a clock, guys!" Katniss lifted Wiress and hugged her tightly. "Wiress, you're a _genius_!"

The first time lightning struck was around midnight. If that was any indication of time now, it had to be around noon time. The top of the hour. And a new threat would soon be upon them.

#####  **__________________________**

The tributes all used the ocean water to wash up before heading to the Cornucopia. They also applied a bit of Bex's leftover ointment to treat Beetee's back wound. Katniss was hellbent on explaining Wiress' theory about the arena from the middle, so they followed her across the line of rubble. Using Finnick's hand for balance, Bex was extremely careful as she walked across the stones. She couldn't help but remember the last time she sank deep within these waters. The feeling of saltwater clogging her lungs was hard to forget.

But Finnick's gentle grip seemed to set her at ease. And that made thinking about the future of these Games all the more difficult.

She didn't want to kill him. The thought terrified her half to death.

"This entire arena seems to be laid out like a clock," Katniss said, interrupting Bex's conscious. They all helped each other up the steep jump on the Cornucopia. Much to their surprise, the Careers had emptied from their desired spot. "There's a new threat every hour, but they stay within their wedge."

Bex noticed the sun was setting far too quickly today. The Gamemakers must've started speeding up time once Katniss realized their ploy.

Katniss pointed to the tree in one sector of the arena, still smoking from the lightning strike. "It all starts with the lightning. Then the blood rain, fog, monkey mutts. And that's only the first four hours."

"What about the other hours?" Bex asked, crossing her arms.

"We haven't explored that much of the arena yet, thankfully." Katniss adjusted the bow strapped against her chest. "At ten, the big wave hits from over there." She pointed towards the sector where they saw the huge swell barge through the trees, taking down everything in its wake.

Finnick placed a hand on Wiress' shoulder and grinned. "You're officially the smartest person I know, Wiress."

It looked like Wiress didn't know what to do with all this admiration. She curled in on herself at the praise, looking to her feet and smiling in a shy way. She continued to mutter, "Tick, tock," under her breath.

"Look," Peeta lifted his blade towards the end of the Cornucopia, "the tail points at the tree, where the lightning strikes at noon and midnight."

From behind them, Wiress settled herself on the ledge of the Cornucopia, dangling her legs in the water. "Hickory, hickory, dock. The mouse ran up the clock," she sang softly, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "The clock struck one, the mouse ran down. Hickory, hickory, dock."

From the inside the Cornucopia, Peeta drew a circle in the black sand on the floor. He carved the circle out into twelve slices, like a freshly baked pie for dessert. "So twelve to one: lightning. One to two is blood rain. Then, fog is from two to three. And then, three to four: monkeys."

"Hickory, hickory, dock," Wiress sang louder. "The dog barked at the clock. The clock struck three, the dog ran down. Hickory, hickory, dock."

"And then, ten to eleven is the wave," Katniss informed again, ignoring Wiress' chant. "What about everything else? Beetee, did you notice anything?"

Beetee shook his head. "Nothing but blood."

Wiress splashed her feet against the water and recited her song again, faster this time.

"It shouldn't matter," Bex answered, pointing to the wedges with the tip of her axe. "As long as we keep track of the time and stay away from whatever sector is active, we're safe."

Finnick frowned, "Relatively speaking, that is."

A gasp resonated from behind them. The five Victors turned. Wiress had stopped singing.

Gloss was now shoving a knife through her throat.


	32. EVERYTHING'S FAKE

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

#####  **__________________________**

**A** cannon fired almost instantly. Wiress' body slipped out of Gloss' grasp and into the water, just as Beetee screamed, "No!"

Katniss pulled an arrow from her back and let it fly. It pierced Gloss' jugular before any of them could even blink. He was choking on his own blood seconds after, falling into the ocean along with Wiress. Another cannon went off.

Everything was happening all at once. It was suddenly difficult for Bex to get a grip on reality. They hadn't expected the ambush from the Careers, but she guessed that was the point. The Cornucopia was their territory, after all.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bex noticed Cashmere running towards them from the side of the Cornucopia. She was wielding a knife from the pack on her belt, ready to throw one at Katniss. Bex thrust her hand out and pushed Katniss behind her, and now Cashmere was lunging straight for _her_. She didn't have enough distance to throw her axe.

Time seemed to slow as Cashmere descended upon her. She remembered the small smiles they would send to each other at Capitol parties. Cashmere and Bex shared a similar kind of pity for one another, like they knew what the other could do to get out of Snow's agreement, but both were too scared to fight it. They were fair-weather friends, but friends nonetheless.

But that friendship was suddenly fraying apart as Cashmere sprinted to kill her.

The blonde Victor pinned Bex to the floor while the rest of her allies fought off the other Careers. She could hear Brutus' war cry somewhere in the background. Bex kicked her legs out from under Cashmere, kneeing her in the stomach and pushing her off. Cashmere landed on the lip of the Cornucopia, nose bleeding and her ponytail skimming against the water. She simply rubbed the blood away and rushed towards Bex again, but it was too late.

Bex was already hurling her axe across the Cornucopia, propelling it right for Cashmere's torso. The other girl didn't even have a second to dodge the attack. The axe submerged into her chest, cracking her ribcage in half, and impaling her heart. Cashmere was thrown back onto the rubble set again. This time, for good.

Her body was bleeding out and sliding towards the water. The ocean seemed to swallow up each corpse, as if heaven resided just below their feet. Bex ran over and yanked her axe from Cashmere's chest, just before her body toppled into the water. Blood dripped onto her boots, and for a moment, Bex pitied Cashmere for the last time. She wished it could've been different.

When she finally turned around, Katniss was shooting for Enobaria, but the older Victor was too quick. Peeta was doing his best to protect Beetee. Finnick was fighting off Brutus' spear, and _losing_. Both Victors were smart, tall, and incredibly calculative, but Brutus was a whole lot bigger than Finnick, and he was using that to his advantage. Enough to stab his spear into Finnick's side as Bex was running for him. She screamed, and Finnick immediately fell to his knees. Katniss shot an arrow at Brutus, but it only penetrated his muscular arm. He didn't feel a thing.

Bex ran for Finnick again, but Peeta was already catching him as he dove down on the Cornucopia. Brutus and Enobaria were nowhere to be seen, and as Bex kneed in front of Finnick, she watched the last of the Careers run away, towards the other side of the jungle that they had yet to explore. Bex cupped his face, slapping it a few times, but Finnick struggled to keep his eyes open.

"You're okay," she told him, plucking the tin of ointment from her sleeve. She swallowed hard at the blood pouring from his side, but thankfully, it wasn't as much as she thought. "You're gonna be okay, Finnick," she said again, more for her than anyone else.

Bex ripped off the fabric to inspect his wound. Brutus definitely got him good, but she was confident this medicine would patch it up quickly. She spread the ointment over his wound, and the cooling sensation had Finnick waking up. He ran a hand over his face, slipped out of Peeta's grip, and after another minute, he was standing up just fine. The blood had crusted over, already creating a scab. "Thank you," he whispered, clutching her hand, "knight in shining armor."

Bex tried not to blush, but it was hard with his eyes fixated on her and his dimples that made her legs weak. If she were his knight in shining armor, then he was the prince held captive in the very deep corners of her heart, and her armor was made of petals.

_Use your petals for armor_ , Phoenix had said, and that she would.

Bex's hand was thrown out of his grasp before she could even squeeze it. The Cornucopia was suddenly spinning.

That's right. _Spinning_.

It began to spin counter-clockwise, catching all of them by surprise. Bex's feet slid out from under her and she slipped down the edge of the Cornucopia. Her right hand latched onto a rock, while the other gripped her axe tightly. Peeta and Beetee gripped the walls of the Cornucopia, knuckles turning white, and Finnick somehow ended on the opposite side. He held onto the edge and dug his nails into the rock. Bex tried pulling herself up to get to him, but her hands were slipping. The rocks were wet and water splashed all around them. Her head spun along with the Cornucopia.

Suddenly, Katniss was tumbling past Bex, headed straight for the water. Bex called for her, and it sounded so inhuman. Her voice cracked into nothing. Bex switched hands then, taking her axe in her right hand and stabbing it into the rock, clutching Katniss' hand just in time. Their fingers wound together. Bex did her best to pull the teenager up farther on the rock, screaming, "I GOT YOU! I GOT YOU!"

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" Katniss hollered back.

Bex wanted to say, _Gamemakers_ , but the word fell dead on her mouth. Weapons from inside the Cornucopia tumbled down and into the water. Sharp blades skimmed their face. Bex was pretty sure the handle of a bar mace smacked against her head, almost taking her out. But she didn't waver. She blinked away that darkness that wanted to cloud her vision and held on tighter. Katniss' grip was wet and threatened to slip away. Bex's arm muscles felt like they were tearing, but she still pulled at Katniss' hand, refusing to let go.

It was no secret that she and Katniss didn't get along too well. The arena did that to people. It tore alliances apart, day by day, hour by hour. Katniss and Bex clashed, but something changes when two people come face-to-face with the possibility of death. Bex didn't want to save her for Plutarch or some mysterious rebellion. She suddenly wanted to see Katniss survive this, to give Snow the killing blow when this was all over.

The Cornucopia slowed, and then came to an abrupt stop. A large wave licked at the edge and drenched each of them hanging on with saltwater. Bex coughed on it and spit the water out. When they deemed it safe, the Victors finally crawled up to the base of the Cornucopia. Bex yanked Katniss up with her and tugged her axe out of the thick rock after a few pulls. They found Beetee and Peeta laying down, hands locked around the side of the Cornucopia. Beetee's glasses were completely askew.

When Finnick hauled himself up, he ran over to Bex without hesitation, cupping her cheek. "Are you okay?"

She searched his eyes, and it took all the restraint left in her body to say, _No_ , just to keep his hand on her cheek for a longer time. She nodded, and Finnick paused, swallowing down unsaid words, before running over to help Peeta and Beetee up.

The five of them walked to the edge again, staring up at the sun. It was beginning to drift away. Sunset was a few hours away. Finnick cupped a hand over his eyes and said, "We can't tell what time it is anymore."

Beetee began ransacking the Cornucopia for electrical equipment. His large coil was still at his side, and he searched around for a pair of connectors. Katniss spoke over his rummaging, "We'll figure it out. But we have to get off this island soon before they spin us again."

"How did the Careers get away so fast?" Peeta asked, clearly out of breath. "Are they even still alive?"

"I saw Brutus and Enobaria run into the jungle over there," Bex replied, pointing to where she last spotted the District Two pair.

"Okay," Katniss huffed and placed her hands on her hips. "Besides them, who's left?"

Peeta shrugged. "Maybe Chaff. Just those three."

Finnick twirled the trident back in his hand. "They know they're outnumbered. I doubt they'll attack again. We'll be safe at our spot on the beach."

"So what should we do?" Bex implored, looking to the rest of her allies. She swung the axe over her shoulder. "Hunt them down?"

A shrill scream echoed in the distance. It sounded muted, as if the scream was hidden beneath the thick of trees in the jungle. All the Victors furrowed their brows, but it was Katniss who's mouth dropped, pouring unsaid sounds. The scream came again, louder this time.

"HELP!" It said, blowing through the trees. "KATNISS, HELP ME!"

Katniss muttered, "Oh, my god."

Peeta wasn't fast enough when he reached for her hand. "Katniss –"

"PRIM!" Katniss screamed before immediately taking off towards the forest. She dashed across the rubble line, dark hair blowing behind her, headed straight for the screeching. Peeta didn't take a moment to explain. He followed her across the stones and into the brush. The girl's screams continued as the other Victors sprinted after their allies.

The three stopped at the shoreline, looking around for the District Twelve pair. They could hear Katniss screaming the name, _Prim_ , about a mile away. That was her sister's name. Bex remembered the way everyone in the Capitol showered the girl with adoration and love. Beetee pointed in the direction of Katniss' voice, and Finnick was ready to run right into the jungle for her, trident in hand.

Bex grabbed his hand before he could. "What is that? Her sister can't be here in the arena. What is she hearing?"

"Jabberjays, remember? They copy sounds." Finnick pushed through the large leaves and pointed between the two Victors. "Bex, you stay with Beetee. I'll go get them. I shouldn't be long."

As much as it killed her, she stayed behind. She assisted Beetee in lugging more electrical supplies to their spot on the beach. The two managed to find a black tub filled with connectors and even more wire, hidden in the back of the Cornucopia. It was one of the very few things that had not descended into the water when the Gamemakers had spun the island. As Beetee began connecting his coils of wire on the beach, they heard people screaming yet again. First, Katniss, and then Finnick. Even Peeta resonated through the jungle. Bex stood up straighter, sweat traveling down her back. She bit on her bottom lip hard.

"Beetee," she called, "they've been gone for a while. We should check on them."

"I'll stay behind," he said, busy with his equipment.

Bex knitted her brow together. "You should come with me. We need to protect each other."

"And abandon all this? No way." Beetee finally lifted his eyes and adjusted his glasses. "Besides, no one here thinks of me as a threat ... _yet_. I won't be attacked. I'll be fine."

His reply didn't settle her one bit, but she figured he had a point. She sent him a curt nod before yanking her axe from the sand and venturing into the jungle. Katniss was screeching ahead. Bex followed her voice, taking a hard right, and sprinting east. It sounded like they were on the edge of whatever sector they were in – clearly, one they hadn't explore before. Bex tore through the branches in front of her with the axe, breathing heavily through her nostrils, trying to keep up the pace.

She wouldn't be surprised if her feet were bleeding by the end of today.

Hacking through the large leaf, Bex finally noticed the glint of golden blonde hair in the brush. She followed it without hesitation. No one had hair like that besides Peeta, hair that looked like it was spun from sunlight. And sure enough, when Bex's axe tore through one last section of branches, she found Peeta, arms around Katniss, consoling her. Bex's teeth grit at the sight. Katniss was crouched on the ground with her hands covering her ears, whispering to herself, while a flock of blackbirds lay dead around her. Some were shot with arrows, and others looked like they had been singed by the sun.

"What ..." Her voice ran empty. She tried stepping around the dead birds. "What happened here?"

Peeta brushed a hand through Katniss' hair. "Jabberjay mutts. They must've caught Katniss and Finnick in the last twenty minutes of their hour and trapped them in this wedge."

Bex turned her head, spotting Finnick several feet away. He sat against a tree trunk, knees pulled up to his chest, staring off into the distance. He shook slightly, like a continuous chill was running through him. His trident lay discarded in front of him. Bex called his name loudly, but he didn't answer. He didn't even acknowledge her presence. She slowly made her way over, dropping her axe and kneeling before him.

"Finnick," she said again, softer this time. She searched his eyes. They were glazed over as if he were dead. His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. "Finnick, hey. Finnick, can you hear me?"

She waited for a response. It was like torture, like waiting for the end. Her hands started to shake too.

Finally, he blinked. Only once, and then nodded his head.

"Gods," she breathed. Even a response as little as that relieved her. She then reached for his face. His eyes met hers when she cupped his cheeks. "What did you hear? It wasn't real." She whispered.

Finnick shook his head before slumping his forehead against her shoulder. She didn't need to ask more. That told her enough.

#####  **__________________________**

He had been sitting by the ocean for an hour.

The tributes observed Finnick with a strange inquisitiveness, watching the way the sun was setting against his sullen features, so distraught and exhausted from today's events. Katniss had calmed herself after a while, but it was taking longer for Finnick. His wound from Brutus' spear was completely healed, and yet, an emotional tear still remained. The jabberjays must have said something terrible, something that hit him hard. It was difficult to watch him right now. Everyone preferred to let him sulk on his own.

Beetee was still strung up with his wire, hatching a plan in his mind. The group assumed he would reveal it once he gathered his bearings and allowed him to work on his own. It made Bex think about what he said to her earlier, about how no one thought of him as a threat. They really didn't. Her allies were willing to leave him be and supposed he would tell them of his grand plan soon enough. Bex's main reason for wanting him as an ally was his brain. It could kill as easily as a knife, and that was proving to be more accurate as time went on.

Bex asked Peeta for his spile and jammed it into a tree. She then plucked a cracked coconut from the sand and filled it to the brim. Freshwater sloshed against the sides as she handed Peeta the spile and began to walk towards the water, right for Finnick. She hesitated when the waves crashed against her feet, but continued through it, swallowing down her fear.

Katniss watched Bex offer Finnick the coconut, and after a beat of silence, he took it. Her nose wrinkled. She turned to Peeta, laying in the sand beside her. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she asked him, "Do you think that's real?"

Peeta opened his eyes and sat up, looking to where Katniss was pointing at Finnick and Bex. The two were watching the sunset together, slowly inching closer to one another. Peeta turned back to Katniss and replied, "Yeah, I do."

"It came out so suddenly, though. At just the right time for them to play the star-crossed lovers card." She shook her head. "It just seems fake to me. Too convenient."

"Even if it started that way," Peeta muttered, "anything fake can turn into something so real."

Katniss met his eyes again, realization dawning on her face.

From the shoreline, Finnick tilted the coconut to his lips again and glanced at Bex. She moved closer to him, sitting on his left. "Thanks," he smiled softly. "Probably should've said that a minute ago."

"It's okay," she answered, bowing her head.

A small insect buzzed around Finnick's head. Bex raised her hand and shooed it away, but found her hand lingering on his hair. She swallowed hard and brushed away strands stuck to his face, as well as sand that threatened to meddle in his eyes. She cupped some water and washed it away. The blood that had dried from their fight with the Careers vanished, revealing the face that the Capitol adored so much.

Maybe even she did as well. More than she should've.

"Finnick?" Her voice sounded so small. None of the typical brashness or spite remained within it.

He didn't look at her when he muttered, "Hmm?"

Bex paused, teeth clamping down on her bottom lip. It took her a minute to finally ask, "What did you hear when the jabberjays were attacking you and Katniss?"

He licked at the corners of his lips and propped his legs up, resting his large arms on his kneecaps. A sign escaped his lips.

She was immediately regretting her question. She couldn't even look at him. "Never mind. I don't want to pressure you. Call it morbid curiosity –"

"Seems a lot more than that."

She quickly glanced at him, unable to stop herself, and found him smirking. He was trying to joke around, but she wasn't. Bex blinked in his direction and waited for a real answer. Finnick relented, dropping the sneer with another sigh.

"Katniss said she heard her sister and best friend from home." He paused and looked down. The water licked at his legs, trying to embrace him.

"But I heard others," he continued. "I heard my mom, my dad. People I haven't heard from in years. I don't know how they got my parents' voices, but they did." Then, he looked at Bex. His gaze burned into her own. Her irises were like pools of pure onyx and ash. "And your voice too. All of them were screaming for me, begging for help. And I couldn't do anything about it."

Bex's hand had been grazing the back of his neck, but as the answer pooled from his lips, it suddenly froze. He was still staring at her, waiting for a response. Desperation clouded his vision, but she didn't know what to say. She slowly lowered her hand into the wet sand.

He finally averted his eyes and finished off the last of his water. He placed the coconut in the ocean, allowing it to drift off towards the Cornucopia. "Even when you know they're just jabberjays," he whispered, "it still seems so real."

Bex frowned. "It wasn't real."

"Nothing is anymore." He scoffed, exasperation hinted in his tone.

She was drowning in his sea-green stare again, wanting to drown in it, no matter how much it terrified her.

"Everything's fake, Bex," he finished.

Without a second thought, Bex grabbed his hands. They were outrageously warm, despite lingering in the cold water. "I'm not. I'm real."

Finnick chuckled softly. "That may be true, but ..."

His words trailed into oblivion. Finnick looked down at their conjoined hands. His thumb brushed over her scabbed knuckles, and then the emerald on her ring. It hadn't slipped off once since they entered the arena. Not even when she dove for Nico. Finnick smiled and lifted his head. His hand then slid out of her grip, but he reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

Bex's breath hitched.

The tips of his fingers lingered on her cheek, just grazing the skin, while he searched her eyes for a silent response. She swallowed down any words that threatened to come out.

"Can I ask you something?" He didn't let her answer. He only paused for a brief moment, and then said, "If I ... were to kiss you right now, would that be real or fake?"

She didn't know what to do, or even say. How could she possibly convey all her feelings that she pushed away for so long in just a simple response? Everything was flooding back: every skipping heartbeat she disregarded, every smile she pretended never happened, every touch she overlooked. She hid these feelings for so long that it physically pained her when they bubbled up to the surface, reminding her of what they once were and could be. She had placed them in a bottle, and now that bottle was cracking, exploding into a thousand tiny pieces.

Bex's expression hadn't changed, but she still placed her hand on top of his. She could hear their hearts beating at the same quick pace, hammering against their ribcages. Her ears were ringing. Not even the gentle waves could calm her.

"Yeah," he muttered, releasing a forced chuckle, "I think we both know the answer to that question."

He turned, slipping his hand from hers yet again. With one hand in the sand, he began to push himself up. He was going to walk away from her.

And that was when she kissed him.

Bex pulled him back to her, cupping his face in her bruised hands. Pushing tufts of wet hair from his forehead, their lips connected, and Bex felt something so powerful implode in her gut that they almost broke apart. But neither moved away. She was afraid he wouldn't reciprocate, that he would lean away and say, _I was only kidding_. He didn't though. He wound his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to his chest. The waves crashed onto their laps, but they didn't feel it. At that moment, it was only Finnick and Bex, far away from the arena.

Everything about this felt so different. She remembered the butterflies she got for Angelo. They were heavy and overbearing, clogging up her throat whenever she would speak to him. She felt the same when Eli Thorton kissed her on her fourteenth birthday: her first kiss ever, unaware that so many were coming around the corner. But a kiss was different when there were feelings behind it.

The butterflies in her stomach right now were enormous and beating against the lining of her stomach. No – actually, these weren't butterflies at all. They were so intense that she wouldn't be surprised if they were turning into dragonflies.

Their lips broke for what felt like forever. His mouth brushed against hers, allowing his hot breath to fan against her cheeks. Bex's heartbeat didn't calm.

She once asked herself, _Who could ever love a killer?_ It seemed like an impossible task, and she refused to be someone's burden. But now – being held by him, chests pressed against each other's, never wanting this moment to end – love and feelings didn't seem so bad. Everyone deserved to experience this, even the ruthless killer that the Capitol made her into. She'd been robbed of this for too long. It was time to take it back.

Bex's thumb brushed over his top lip, and she noticed a scar on the corner. "It's never fake," she finally choked out. "Not with you. Not ever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!!!!


	33. THE REAL ENEMY

#### ACT II: THE FLAMES

##### CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

#####  **__________________________**

** BEETEE ** had horrible timing.

Finnick was smiling from ear-to-ear, tucking strands of wet hair behind Bex's ears. He opened his mouth to reply, and Bex held her breath, hoping for something as simple as,  _ The feeling as mutual. _ She wasn't picky. She only needed that. But Beetee was now hollering for them to come over to the beach. "I have a plan!" He screamed, waving his hands in the air.

Bex pressed her forehead against Finnick's chest. They were all close to their deathbeds and she couldn't have this  _ one thing _ . Just for a second.

The group huddled around Beetee at the beach. Bex and Finnick plopped down in the sand next to each other. Finnick had his hand on her knee. Bex tried to convince herself that that only said enough, she didn't need anything else. They shared a soft smile, but panic began to swirl in her chest. She tried to ignore it.

Katniss watched them with a narrowed brow and stayed silent. Peeta smiled, wishing for Katniss to look at him like that more often. Or at least, before his inevitable death.

Beetee cleared his throat, hands wrapped around his double coil. "Where do the Careers feel safest? The jungle?"

"No," Bex said instantly, "the jungle's their worst nightmare."

"Probably here on the beach," Peeta added.

"Then why are they not here?" Beetee furrowed his brow.

Katniss quipped, "Because we are. We claimed it."

"And if we left, they would come." It was a question, but Beetee's reply sounded more like a blanket statement. His stare rounded the group.

Finnick shrugged. "Or stay hidden in the tree line."

"Which in just over five hours will be soaked with water from the ten o'clock wave. And what happens at midnight?"

Katniss nodded her head slowly. "Lightning strikes that tree."

"Yes. Here's what I propose." He stabbed the tip of his finger into the sand. "We leave the beach a few hours before midnight. We head to the lightning tree. That should draw them back to the beach. Prior to midnight, we then run this wire –" He held up the several coils he had strung together. "– From the tree to the water. Anyone in the water or on the damp sand will be electrocuted."

"How do we know that wire's not going to burn up and take us all down?" Bex asked. Everyone turned to her with a puzzled expression. "You told me earlier today that no one thinks of you as a threat. This plan could very well kill us along with the Careers."

Heads swung back to Beetee, waiting impatiently for an answer.

"Well, I invented this wire. I strung it together. I assure you, it won't burn up." He licked at the corners of his mouth. "As for the other part, I guess you'll just have to trust me. I'm not your enemy. He is  _ out there _ ."

Realization flashed across Bex's eyes. No one in this arena was their enemy, not even the Careers. The real enemy was Snow. It had  _ always  _ been Snow. But he was unbeatable. The Careers were partly on his side, yes, but what would killing them do? What was the best possible way to get to him?

Maybe following Beetee's plan was the only way to find out.

When she looked around, everyone was nodding, agreeing to the idea. Eventually, Bex exhaled, "It's better than hunting them down."

"Yeah, why not?" Katniss said, looking to Beetee. She was clearly suspicious, but didn't want to say it out loud. "If it fails, no harm done anyway,  _ right _ ?"

Beetee bobbed his head yes.

"Okay," Finnick said, "so what can we do to help?"

Beetee paused, thinking it over. He rubbed at the dirt on the back of his neck and replied, "I guess ... keep me alive for the next five hours? That would be extremely helpful."

#####  **__________________________**

They used the free hour they had to gather their strength. Beetee sat and made sure his wire was connected tightly. Finnick stood in the water, twirling his trident as the moon slowly made its way into the sky. Bex ate the rest of Beetee rolls. It still puzzled her why he received twenty-four. It was such a specific number. Could the rolls have anything to do with the arena itself? Twenty-four representing midnight, and giving them to District Three ... which represented Beetee's plan. Something still wasn't making sense, though.  _ Why  _ were they given in the first place? If it was a message, what was the purpose?

She wondered if it was to get them out of there. But she didn't want to get her hopes up. She trusted Plutarch to do something; she just didn't know what it would entail, or who would end up dead in the process.

She sat in the sand, flexing her hand around the axe, and couldn't help but question why Finnick wasn't sitting with her. He clearly had a lot on his mind, but something about this concerned her. Her anxiety was heightened. It was probably the dehydration getting to her. She just drank a few hours ago, but it wasn't enough, and when she asked Peeta for the spile again, they couldn't find any trees near them with fresh water. She decided to stick it out, but maybe that wasn't the best idea. Her hand was starting to shake; irrational thoughts were flooding her mind.

A groan slipped past her lips. She'd just have to ignore it for now. She could do that.

Katniss and Peeta were sitting pretty far from the rest of the group. They were whispering, looking to the group every few seconds. Bex's fear tried to convince her they were going to run away, and what then? What of Plutarch's plan?

But they didn't. The two teenagers shared a delicate kiss and stayed watching the ocean, keeping Bex's apprehension at bay.  _ For now. _

They left for the lightning tree as a mist began to settle over the ocean. Beetee and Peeta carried the two attached coils from the beach to the tree, which was located on the other side of the arena. The Victors hoped to arrive there on time. "One hour to get to the tree," Beetee said as they walked, "and one hour to wrap the wire around it. We should be there soon."

Bex was still wary. For what, she wasn't so sure anymore.

They traveled through the dark, attempting to use the moon as their guide. It was difficult to see in the pitch black, but that meant it was the best time to move. The Careers could be anywhere in this jungle, and their group could be too. An ambush seemed unlikely when neither could see where the others would strike.

Bex almost tripped over the fourth branch in her path. Her mind was preoccupied with other matters. She couldn't help but think about what will happen after the Careers are dead. Bex promised to keep Katniss safe, but what about  _ herself _ ? Didn't her own survival matter too? Nico had done his duty for Plutarch, and that got him murdered. The cold embrace of death was terrifying to her. She had survived for so long that she didn't know how to die, nor did she want to.

Who would be her next victim after tonight? Beetee seemed like the safest bet, but everyone was likely to jump on him. He was the easiest target.

Bex looked to Finnick. He hiked beside her, using the trident as a walking stick. She swallowed hard. Bex couldn't bring herself to think about killing him. But what if it had to be done? What if that were the only means of survival?

What if that was supposed to happen all along? Fake a relationship, actually start to like each other, and then throw it all away to see which one lives to see another day. Take two lovers and shred their humanity. That's what humans were, right? Selfish beings.

Finnick caught her eye then and grabbed her hand.

She didn't want to kill him. Oh,  _ gods _ , she suddenly couldn't bear to even devise a plan. She hoped he felt the same way. If she was lucky, they'd both go down together in blazing glory, protecting Katniss for whatever Plutarch plans for her.

The Panem anthem began to blast all around them, interrupting Bex's thoughts. The group turned to see the Fallen memorial playing in the sky. They first showcased Cashmere, and Bex couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. It was strange. Cashmere did try to kill her, but she had known Bex for so long. Next was her District partner and brother, Gloss, whom Bex didn't care about one bit. She was glad to see him dead.

Then, there was Wiress. Bex wasn't sure if Beetee was crying then or just rubbing at his eyes. Mags came soon after, and she almost didn't believe that her death only happened just this early morning. Time didn't feel real in the arena. Bex squeezed Finnick's hand, even when her image disappeared. The morphling girl from District Six came next, and then Chaff from District Eleven. 

The music ended. Brutus, Enobaria, and their group were the last ones left.

They were nearing the tree. Bex could tell from the scent of smoke in the air. Even though the tree hadn't been struck in twelve hours, a heavy burning smell seemed to hover in the area around it. When Bex breathed it in, it reminded her of home.

She glanced at Finnick, lowering her voice to a whisper. "What are we going to do after this? When we kill the last of the Careers?"

Finnick didn't say a word. He only smiled and continued to follow Beetee. His hand slipped from hers as he walked forward.

Bex's eyes went wide and her palms started to sweat again. She felt like she was going to throw up. Maybe it was the rolls, maybe it was lack of a proper meal ... she didn't know. She just felt  _ sick _ and it was probably because she realized how this was going end. Finnick had his own plan after all – it just didn't involve her.

Was he planning to kill her himself?

Bex tilted her chin up when they approached the tree. It was even taller up close. It's bark looked like it was made up of a million tiny branches, all twisting around each other to form into one. Bex thought she'd seen it all, but she hadn't discovered a tree like this in Seven.

Beetee studied the tree and pushed up his glasses. "Minimal charring," he muttered, advancing toward it. "An impressive conductor."

He then looked over his shoulder, eyes pinned on Bex. She looked over when she felt his stare burning into her cheek, and his brow shot up, waiting for an answer. The rest of the group glanced at her.

"I mean, yeah, I guess." She swung the axe onto her other shoulder when the right began to ache. "Didn't know that trees could be conductors. We're not taught about that in Seven."

"I suspected as much," he quipped, turning back to the tree. "Let's get started."

Beetee and Peeta took their conjoined coils around the tree while the rest of the group helped wrapped the wire tightly around the trunk and branches closer to the bottom. Except for Finnick. He kept watch as they worked. His lack of contribution was slightly worrying, but again, Bex shoved it away, attempting to focus on more important matters. Hunger and dehydration were getting to her. She couldn't let it win. Her sanity was futile.

"Typically, a lightning strike contains five billion joules of energy," Beetee explained as they continued working. "We don't want to be anywhere in the vicinity when this hits."

Bex released a huff.  _ That definitely helps my anxiety _ , she thought.

It took them a little less than thirty minutes when Beetee told them to stop. Somehow, they were ahead of schedule. One coil still had a lot of wire around the spool. Beetee picked it up and handed it to Katniss. "You and Finnick, go together now. Take this. Unspool it carefully. Make sure the rest of the wire is in the damp sand. You understand?"

Finnick nodded, but Katniss still looked confused. Bex's expression was similar as she stood beside Peeta, arms crossed.

"Then, head to the tree at the two o'clock sector," Beetee instructed. "We'll meet you there."

Peeta stepped forward. "I'm gonna go with them as a guard."

"Nonsense. I'm sure they can protect themselves." He looked at Peeta form over his glasses. "You're staying here to protect me. You and Bex. You both need to protect me  _ and _ the tree.

"No, I need to go with  _ her _ ," Peeta argued.

"There are two Careers out there. I need  _ two guards _ ."

Bex turned to Beetee. "How about I take the coil –" She thrust her hand out. "– And I can go with Finnick to the water. I'm not comfortable separating from him."

Irritation washed over Beetee's face. She didn't think someone like him could look so angry, but then he was leaning into her face, brows crossed with agitation. "We are not dealing with this  _ lovebirds crap _ . We're on limited time here, people."

Bex swallowed hard as Beetee stepped back. His eyes narrowed. "You all agreed to keep me alive until midnight, correct?"

Silence. Everyone glanced around the circle. Katniss was still holding the coil.

"It's Beetee's plan. We all agreed to go along with it," Finnick announced. "I'm okay to go on my own, Bex. Is there a problem with  _ you two _ ?" He turned towards the District Twelve couple.

"No," Katniss replied. "There's no problem." She walked up to Peeta and placed a delicate kiss on his lips, but Peeta's reservation hadn't subsided. Bex could see it on his face. With one last nod, Katniss tugged at the coil and followed Finnick away from the tree.

Bex stepped forward, hoping Finnick would kiss her as well. But he didn't. He led Katniss away and didn't look back. Bex's jaw clenched; her eyes filled with uncertainty. A million possibilities ran through her head. She could hardly keep track of them. One fact remained clear, though: Finnick would attempt to kill her at midnight.

He  _ had _ to be planning it. There was no other reason for his sudden lack of affection and awareness. He was preparing himself for the end. He wanted to make it easier on himself when he attempted to pierce the trident through her chest. Did he plan this all along?

A hand clapped on her shoulder.

Bex moved away instantly. But it was just Peeta. He put his hands up.

"Just wanted to ask if you were okay," he said.

"Um – yes," she answered. Peeta eyed her shaky hand as it pushed hair behind her ears. "I'm fine."

As Beetee paced around the tree, checking that every piece was wrapped tight, Bex sat by the edge of their camp. Her chin was placed on the handle of her axe. She studied the wire that Katniss had dragged back to the beach. Sometimes it would jolt, indicating that it had gotten caught on something, before going still. She swallowed and tried focusing on the burn making its way up her throat. Peeta stood behind her, staring blankly at the spot where Katniss last looked at him.

Bex's brain felt fried. All she kept thinking about was water, food, and Finnick.

"We need to go soon," she exclaimed, voice quivering. "It's almost midnight."

Maybe once they left to go meet up with the rest of the group, Bex could sulk into the shadows, never to be found again. She could use the trees as her friend again, hiding within a hollow trunk. Finnick wouldn't be able to find her.

"Just a bit longer," Beetee answered.

It was then, in the dead of night, that Bex heard a sharp snap. The wire went slack in the dirt. A scream followed in the distance.

Bex got to her feet and held her axe tightly. Peeta was clearly thinking the same thing as he went to stand beside the older Victor.

"That sounded like Katniss," he whispered.

Bex hesitated, trying to control her breathing. "Beetee," she called without turning back, "something's wrong."

Beetee sighed, "We'll leave  _ soon _ ."

Katniss screamed again. It sounded closer this time.

Bex spun around to face Beetee. He was leaning against the tree, brows shooting up to his hairline. She growled through clenched teeth, " _ Something's wrong _ . I'm not going to continue to sit here and do nothing."

"But –"

Peeta grabbed her arm. "We need to go find them. I'll get Katniss. You find Finnick."

Bex wasn't sure if she wanted to find Finnick, but something in her yearned to just be near him again. It was strange how just one kiss could connect to people together, making them do things that they never once thought of before their lips brushed. Bex wasn't thinking correctly. She didn't want to know what plan Finnick had up his sleeve. She didn't want to feel his blood on her hands or have to see her own on his. But she still followed Peeta in the jungle, searching for the Golden Boy in a sea of darkness.

Beetee shouted for them to come back. But they were already running, too far away to return.

Dark clouds began to cover the moon. Bex looked up to the sky as she ran. They were heading for the lightning tree, where Beetee was still under. She stopped short, knowing she should turn around and warn him. Electricity crackled in the clouds – a premonition of what was to come. She needed to keep going, though. Something was tugging her forward, as if she was tethered to Finnick's presence.

When she turned back to find Peeta, he was already gone. She whirled around in a circle and realized she was completely on her own now. And lost.

A large leaf came out in front of her as she took a step forward. Bex didn't miss it. She cut through it with her axe before the leaf could smack her right in the face. She cut down another, and another, venturing forward as creatures howled from the treetops. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She called out, "Who's there?"

Another step forward. A branch swung out. She sliced through it.

" _ Finnick! _ " She shrieked, her voice reaching new volumes. "Finnick, is that you?!"

Then came another branch, but as Bex cut this one away, Finnick emerged from the shadows, out of breath. His eyes were wide and frantic.

His suit was covered in blood.

Bex immediately pointed her weapon in his direction. He stopped a few feet away, one hand up in surrender. The other was clutching his trident.

"Bex," he breathed out her name like he was seeing heaven. Maybe he was. It felt like a relief to see her, despite the twisted expression on her face or the frenzy reflecting in her eyes. "You're supposed to stay with Beetee and Peeta."

Her hands were still shaking, but Bex's stance didn't waver. The blade was aimed directly at his throat. They both knew that if she were to throw it, there's no way in hell she'd miss.

"And  _ you're _ supposed to be with Katniss," she reminded. "Where is she?"

"Brutus and Enobaria. They attacked and split us up." Finnick's stare was trained on the axe. "Why are you still pointing that at me?"

Bex didn't move an inch.

Slowly, Finnick placed his surrendering hand on his side. He then began to crouch down with his weapon. "I'm going to put my trident on the ground –"

Bex jabbed the axe in his direction, causing Finnick to spring up again. His back went stiff as a board. "That doesn't sound like the truth," she spat.

His brow furrowed. "Are you  _ hallucinating _ ? You must need water. I'll get you some as soon as we kill the Careers and get out –"

" _ Where's Katniss? _ " Bex demanded. "Tell me the  _ truth _ ."

"I'm telling you the truth!" He took one step forward. He was sure if he walked faster, she'd put the axe down. So he did just that, approaching the blade swiftly, but Bex didn't move. She didn't even tell him to get back. "Bex –"

She shook her head. Water gathered in her eyes, but she didn't cry. " _ No _ . It's all a  _ lie _ ." She jabbed the blade again, but Finnick stepped away just before it could pierce his suit. Her eyes were wild with fury and fresh tears. He wasn't sure if he'd make it out of this. But they had to. There wasn't much time left –

"You should be an actor," she continued. "You certainly had me fooled. This relationship was fake the  _ whole time _ , but that kiss was real. I swear it was. I  _ cared  _ about you. That was real too. But you were the one who was always fake. You knew exactly what to do to keep the audience entertained. You've been planning how to kill me the entire time,  _ haven't you _ ?"

"No, no. Of course,  _ not _ ." he shook his head frantically. Time was ticking. Thunder got louder. His breathing was quick and distressed. "Bex, you're dehydrated. You're hallucinating."

Her jaw clenched. Her mind felt like it was freezing over, completely numb. "I'm  _ fine _ ."

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not your enemy." He then crouched for the shortest second, dropping his trident. It collided with the wet dirt. "See?"

Bex's wide eyes flickered from him to the trident. She heaved quickly.

"Remember who the real enemy is, Bex. I don't want you to die."

She blinked. Her black stare had never looked so eery until that moment, when the moon reflected in her dark pools. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she stared at him, finally believing his words.

Bex slowly let the axe fall.

"You say the relationship was fake the whole time," he continued, and the weapon lowered even more, "but it never was for me. I've cared about you since I visited District Seven, when you showed me the  _ real  _ Bex Nassar. Not the stupid Flower Girl that everyone else sees. I know the real you. You made me  _ feel  _ again."

The axe slipped from her grip.

Bex didn't even feel the tears gliding down her face. She felt entirely numb, but she knew they were there. Hot, wet tears ran through the dirt still caked on her skin, and she wiped them away with blood-stained hands before closing the short distance between her and Finnick. Her body collided into his like a turbulent storm. The blood covering him didn't matter anymore. She could smell it, but it was almost like it didn't exist. Thunder echoed in the distance as she wrapped her arms around his shoulder blades, hugging him tightly. His suit absorbed every tear that soiled the fabric.

"It's okay," he whispered, brushing a hand down her hair.

"No, it's not," she argued. "I am hallucinating. I have to be. I almost killed you –"

Finnick kissed the top of her head, silencing her worries. "You didn't. It doesn't matter. We  _ have  _ to find Katniss –"

"PEETA!"

The two Victors turned to look over Bex's shoulder. "Found her," she muttered.

They needed to get farther away from the tree, but that suddenly didn't matter. Katniss' scream came from that direction. Lightning trailed them, sizzling within the clouds. The storm would be coming in minutes. Maybe even less than that. They needed to get as far away from here as possible, but not without Katniss. Not without the Mockingjay.

Sparks filtered in the air, and through the trees, Bex could see a body flying back. And then, a cannon fired.

"PEETA!" Katniss screamed again. "WHERE ARE YOU?!"

They were close, but the storm was even closer. The black clouds gathered over the tree. The strike was coming. Bex could see Katniss' dark figure pacing around the tree before kneeling in front of something. Within seconds, Finnick and Bex appeared from the jungle, pushing several branches out of their way.

Katniss' stance had changed so quickly in those few moments. When they stopped short at the tree, she already had an arrow nocked on her bow. But something was connected to the end of it. A wire. The same one attached to the lightning tree.

Beetee was shivering on the ground. Bex wanted to grab him, pull him away, but Finnick's arm was blocking her path.

"Katniss!" Bex called at the top of her lungs. "What are you doing?!"

For a split second, Katniss met Bex's eyes from over her shoulder. The arrow was still nocked, now pointed towards the sky. Bex wasn't sure if she could hear her correctly. But then Katniss' lips moved, and she could've sworn she whispered, "Remembering who the real enemy is."

"No!" Finnick ran out to tackle Katniss to the ground. "Katniss, get away from that tree –"

It was too late. Katniss had let the arrow fly. It was soaring towards the sky as lightning pierced the tree. Sparks flared in the air and sent them all back. Bex's spine was thrown against a tree and she heard a deafening crack. It was one of the worst things she'd ever felt.

"FINNICK!" Bex had been reaching for him, but she never grasped his arm. She couldn't remember even feeling his hand.

And then, her whole vision went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for Act II! I'm so excited to explore the themes and plot of "Mockingjay" in Act III!


	34. DISTRICT THIRTEEN

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

#####  **__________________________**

** THE ** world felt completely still when Bex opened her eyes.

She was hit with a ringing in her ears first. Then her eyes blinked, attempting to adjust to the dark orange lighting of the room. Pinned to the walls were x-rays of a spine. It looked cracked, slightly disfigured. Not  _ horrifically deformed _ , but enough to be worried about. A few machines beeped around her, and an IV was connected to her right arm. Bex suspected it to be morphling. Maybe that's why she was so calm right now.

Everything felt stiff. Her back was completely straight, kept aligned with a thick brace attached to her torso. Bex swallowed hard and tried to move around, but it was difficult. She remembered the cracking sound then. When her spine had hit the tree in the arena. It was deafening, blaring in her eardrums. And then, everything went dark. How long had it been since the arena?

The arena. The Games.

A voice rang in her ears:  _ Remember who the real enemy is. _

Bex scanned the room once more. Where was she?

When her eyes landed on her bedside table, she couldn't help but ogle her mother's wedding ring sitting on the steel tray. The band was crusted with dirt. Beside it was the tracker placed in her arm before she had entered the arena. Bex slowly lifted her arm, using all the strength in her body to grab the tracker, but it was no use. The arm fell limp at her side, so she craned her neck more to look at it. The tracker was bloody and looked like it had been ripped from her skin. It was no longer active.

If she wasn't in the arena, where could she be? This had to be a hospital, but where? In the Capitol? Bex pursed her lips at the possibility that she might've won the Quell. She couldn't have, though. The lightning knocked them all out –

Panic surged through her. The morphling was useless against her overwhelming anxiety. Bex peered over at the left wall and spotted an emergency button:  _ PRESS FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY. A NURSE WILL ASSIST YOU.  _ She debated on pushing it, but she highly doubted a nurse would come in. It could be a trick. An enemy could come in, like Enobaria or Brutus. They could come in and stab her, just as they should've done in the arena.

But she needed answers. Maybe it was worth the risk.

Bex huffed, a groan spilling from her clenched teeth, as she tried reaching for the button.

The door swung open. Bex stopped in place, and then resumed her normal laying position.

"Thought I saw some movement in here," Johanna tsked, walking more into her room. The door sealed itself shut behind her.

Bex almost couldn't believe it. She looked at Johanna as if she were a ghost. The younger Victor's hair was cropped even shorter than before. It was more like a buzzcut now, and her brows were bushier than usual. She was wearing a grey jumpsuit with a white apron, looking like some character from one of those Capitol TV soap operas. Bex tried saying her name, but it came out more like a croak: "Johanna –"

"You  _ have  _ to lay back, Bex. Your spine won't heal more if you don't rest." Johanna shoved her back against the fluffy pillows, and Bex winced. The younger girl simply shook her head and placed her hands on her hips. "They have me monitoring all the cameras in the hospital rooms. It's kinda boring if you ask me."

Bex stretched out her hand and gripped Johanna's wrist tightly. "Where are we?" She demanded. Her voice was hoarse from not talking in days, maybe even weeks. She wasn't sure.

Johanna yanked her arm away, struggling to pull out of Bex's grip. For someone so injured, she still had a strong grasp. "Ow, ow! What's wrong with you?! Let me –"

"Tell me where we are, Johanna." She demanded, teeth gritted. " _ Now _ ."

"District Thirteen, alright?" Johanna pulled again. " _ Let go _ ."

Bex's hand went numb as she released Johanna. Her eyes flickered away, and Johanna began rubbing at the spot where Bex had gripped her, a smug expression on her face. "District Thirteen was destroyed years ago," Bex said, voice sounding so far away. "It's nuclear and uninhabitable."

"Or so they say," Johanna smirked, sitting down on Bex's cot. The other Victor turned to her once again, brows pulled together. "I guess this was their ploy all along. Plutarch planned this the second the Quell was announced, but left it very ambiguous. I only knew once he came to me during the Games, telling me he was going to get you and the others out."

Bex pursed her lips.

"Everything has been orchestrated by him. He was Head Gamemaker, so he executed his plan into the Games," she explained. "Beetee's wire was planted at the Cornucopia specifically to blow up the forcefield, so they could rescue you all. And his sponsor gift of rolls signified what day and hour Plutarch was coming. Beetee is from District Three ... Day Three. Twenty-four rolls ... midnight."

Bex rubbed at her temples the best she could, but it was still difficult to move. "I was dehydrated and starving for two days. Not to mention,  _ hallucinating _ . How did you think I was going to come up with that?"

Johanna shrugged. "Maybe I gave you too much credit." She looked down at Bex's bruised knuckles and a shiver ran through her. "Not many people knew the full scope of the plan anyway. Finnick knew that you guys were going to get out, but he didn't know when. He was willing to sacrifice himself to at least get  _ you _ out. Beetee knew something would happen at the start of Day Three. It's been incredibly secretive for a good reason."

Looking off, Bex received flashes of that final day in the arena. They danced across her vision, creating a kaleidoscope of memories. She remembered the way Finnick had been distant after their kiss, how he hadn't looked back at her when he left the lightning tree. He had been hoping they were going to be rescued soon. And if not, he was prepared to die for her. He withdrew from her, hoping that if he did pass, she wouldn't mourn him. But Bex –  _ poor, dehydrated Bex _ – had let her paranoia consume her. She suddenly felt like an idiot, but nothing could be done now. That's what the arena did to tributes. It allowed their anxiety and killer instincts to manifest into complete destruction. It turned them against each other.

She glanced at what she could only presume were her own x-rays, and she cringed, before turning back to Johanna. "And this plan ... was  _ all  _ to protect Katniss?"

"To protect the  _ Mockingjay _ ," Johanna corrected. "So they could house us in District Thirteen and let the rebellion take charge. We're underground. No one can hurt us."

"Who's  _ us _ ?"

"Whoever they could save," Johanna said, averting her stare. "But not everyone."

_ Finnick _ . The name shot through her system, creating a swell of panic in her gut. Bex considered reaching over and gripping her wrist again, demanding to know Finnick's whereabouts, but Johanna started rolling her eyes as if she had read her thoughts.

"Finnick is here. They managed to get him and Katniss and Beetee out of the arena." She swallowed hard. "But not everyone else."

What about Peeta and the Careers? Had they just been abandoned? Bex opened her mouth to voice these concerns, but Johanna was already talking over her, a grim expression on her face. She still didn't look in Bex's direction.

"They took people – the Capitol. People we care about." She bit the inside of her cheek. "And then sent bombers to some of the Districts. Seven is destroyed. So is Three, Eight, Eleven, and especially, Twelve."

Bex's eyes narrowed. "Johanna," she called, " _ look  _ at me."

The other girl didn't move an inch.

With gritted teeth, Bex demanded, "Johanna,  _ look at me _ . Look at me and tell me who they took."

Johanna released a long sigh and finally met her gaze. She stared at the way Bex was sitting. The back brace was so thick that it made her body teeter to the side, just the tiniest bit. Slowly, Johanna's dark stare was burning into hers, and Bex was fighting the urge to cry.

She hadn't even said anything, but Bex had a feeling of what she was going to say.

"The Capitol has your brother, Bex," she replied softly, before her voice began to speed up with nerves. "They also have Peeta and Enobaria. I heard they killed your friend, Angelo, too. I'm sorry. I didn't want to have to be the one to tell you this."

Her teeth were digging into her bottom lip. Bex wasn't sure if she drew blood. She was suddenly too distracted by the stinging in her eyes. Tears began to gather in the corners. In that moment, she almost forgot to breathe.

Johanna continued quickly, "I hoped Plutarch would tell you. He seems more level-headed than me. Nico would know how to say it better too. I miss him. I know he had to sacrifice himself, but I still –"

" _ Johanna _ ," Bex said. Her tone was getting more agitated and loud as the seconds ticked on. "Is Keaton alive?"

She paused, licking her lips. "I don't know. Plutarch doesn't think Snow would have him killed. You're valuable to Snow. The Capitol people love you and don't want to believe you're part of a rebellion. Maybe he wants to use your brother as leverage to get you to come to his side."

"But we need to get him back."

"Not right now." Johanna's brow narrowed. " _ Definitely _ , not right now."

"Yes,  _ right now _ ." Bex looked at her like the answer was obvious. "They've taken the only family I have left, Johanna. Do you get that? You of  _ all people  _ know what it's like to lose your family. Don't let me lose mine."

The younger Victor scowled. "Low blow, Bex." She got to her feet and headed for the door.

Bex reached out. "No, no, Johanna –" She made an effort to sit up more, growing disheartened as Johanna got closer to the exit. "Johanna, wait,  _ please _ –"

She ripped out her IV and slid off the side of the cot, starting to waddle over to the door. The back brace made it harder to walk, too, and her body felt heavier with it on. But she still chased after Johanna, desperate for her help. As she reached the door, it had already shut in her face. Bex looked through the small window. Johanna was staring back at her, worry filling her eyes. She could hear a lock click in place.

"No –" She slapped her had against the glass. " _ No _ , Johanna!  _ Please _ , don't lock me in here!"

Johanna swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. She lifted her hand from the lock.

Bex continued banging her hands against the glass. Her begging was muffled by the window.

"You need to  _ calm down _ , Bex," she spoke calmly, rationally, despite her finger twitching.

But that made her even angrier.

Bex pounded on the door, face twisting with fury. " _ NO! _ "

"It's for your own good." Johanna took a few steps back. "I'll be watching you through the cameras."

Bex didn't stop slamming her hand against the glass. It was smudged with her handprint by this point. Tears were streaming down her face – tears she simply couldn't hold in anymore – and they stained the window as she pressed her face into it. She needed to be let out immediately. She wouldn't let anyone stop her from getting to her brother. This door was no match for her rage.

"No, Johanna, I'm sorry," she pleaded. Her breath was now fogging the glass. "I didn't mean it. Let me out. I'll make it up to you."

But when she blinked her doe eyes, Bex realized Johanna was too far to hear her.

Fury boiled underneath her skin and she couldn't hold it back any longer.

Her hands formed into fists and she beat them against the door, just hard enough for there to be a sound. She choked on a sob as nurses continued to walk by her room, paying her no attention. Her voice came out as an animalistic wail when she exclaimed, "LET ME OUT! LET ME GO TO THE CAPITOL RIGHT NOW!"

Bex leaned her forehead on the window. Her tears ran down the glass like a storm.

"I just want my brother back," she cried. "Someone get him back. Let me  _ out  _ of here. Let me go to the Capitol and slaughter them all. He doesn't deserve this.  _ I do _ . This is all  _ my fault _ ." Another slam of her fists. "I will  _ kill them _ !" A nurse passing by finally glanced in her direction, and she used the slim chance she got. "Do you  _ hear me _ ?! I'll kill them all in the Capitol! Every last Peacekeeper. Every last Gamemaker. Snow. I'll do it  _ all  _ just to get Keaton."

The nurse couldn't pull her eyes away.

Bex shrieked, "LET ME OUT!"

She rammed her fist into the door so hard that she doubled back on the ground. She shouted a series of expletives as she landed on her side. Thankfully, the weight of her back brace helped her to not land on her healing spine, but that didn't make her hand hurt any less. More tears began to dry on her cheeks. Her dirty, dark hair was splayed out on the floor as she curled herself into a ball, holding her hand to her chest.

Finally, the lock clicked again. Bex looked up and rubbed at her runny nose.

The nurse from outside – her name badge called her, Maryam – opened the door and peered down at Bex. "Oh, dear," she huffed, frown lines tightening at the sight of her.

Bex set her head back down on the floor once again. The surface was cool and made the pulse in her temples feel better. Carefully, Maryam walked over and hauled her up from underneath her armpits. She then dragged Bex over and helped her back on her bed, placing the IV back in her arm. As soon as the morphling flooded her body, everything started to feel better.

Maryam lifted her hand and inspected it. Bex hissed in pain as she pressed down on her fingers. "Your hand is slightly broken," she sighed.

Bex lifted her head. Before she could scrutinize, Maryam was already pushing against her knuckles, lining the bones back in place. Bex screeched and immediately bit down on her other hand to hide it. It only took a few seconds, but the pain remained and it was  _ immense _ .

Maryam laid her hand back down. "Let me go get some ice and a splint."

When she left the room, she locked it again, and all Bex's hope vanished. She looked back down at her hand as it started to swell up. Her bronze skin was now tinged with a blushing pink.

Maryam returned with a small, blue bag of ice. She pressed it onto Bex's hand and timed herself with the watch on her hand. "You should never do that again," she chastised, eyeing the clock. "The steel on these doors could've done much more damage. It's shockproof."

Bex rubbed the tears away from her eyes and sniffled, sucking it all back in. She felt so embarrassed, but she didn't regret it. She  _ needed _ everyone to know that she was angry, that she was desperate for revenge. It made her all that more lethal.

They sat together, waiting patiently for the swelling to go down. Maryam plopped down on a seat next to her cot for almost a full hour. Bex laid back silently and studied the lines crinkling at the edge of her eyes. She looked overtired. Bex wondered how long her shift had been, and then questioned why she stayed when she could've just ended her shift. Maybe she didn't trust her enough to not get up again, or keep the ice pack on for a while.

"Okay," Maryam finally said, lifting the ice pack. Bex looked down. Her hand was still red, but a lot less swelled. "Move your fingers."

She did as told. Her eyes winced slightly at the pain, but it was bearable.

"Do this regularly to stop them from stiffening." Maryam reached for the splint and opened it. She looked over at Bex and noticed her rubbing at her eyes again. "It's okay. The pain goes away after a while."

Bex huffed again as the splint was wrapped around her hand and wrist. She moved her fingers and felt a sharp pain at the tips. "It's not  _ that _ ," she whispered through clenched teeth. "I just want to be out of here. My brother was taken."

Maryam furrowed her brow. There was a glint of resentment in her stare. "The Capitol has taken something from each and every one of us. You're not the only one who's lost here."

Bex blinked, not knowing what to say. There was nothing  _ to say _ , because Maryam was right.

And then, Maryam's eyes softened. She placed Bex's wrapped hand on the cot and patted her leg. "Get some rest."

She didn't get too far before Bex was clutching her hand, tugging on it as politely as she could. "Can I see Finnick Odair?"

"You and every other woman here," she chuckled, slipping out of her hold. "Sleep now. You can see him soon, okay?"

Bex rolled her eyes at Maryam's attitude. She thought Bex to be one of Finnick's adoring fans, the kind that waited outside his hotel just for a kiss on the cheek. As Maryam locked the door behind her, Bex laid back and contemplated if that's who she  _ really was _ . I mean, their relationship had been fake at first, who's to say he still wasn't acting in the arena? And now she was left with feeling something so  _ real _ , enough to turn her into one of his admirers. She shuddered at the thought.

She continued doing that for an hour: overthinking every single move she made in the arena. Her eyes were glued to the lights on the walls, but her mind was somewhere else. She remembered all the lives she took, the adrenaline she felt each time her axe split through someone's throat. She wanted to feel that alive again. Right now, she felt dead. As dead as the people she crushed with her own hands in that jungle. If she looked down at her hands, she was sure she'd still find blood underneath her nails. She didn't dare take the chance. Fear wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

Eventually, she found sleep. But not for long. Bex wasn't sure how long it lasted, or how long she'd been screaming, but she woke up from a nightmare. It had been of her in the water, diving deeper and deeper into the ocean. Everything had gone cold and dark around her. She had started flailing at some point, arms reaching for a hand outstretched towards her, but it was so far away. No matter how many times she tried to swim lower, she couldn't. Bex simply flailed, and allowed the oxygen to clog up her lungs. She saw the bright light all over again.

And then she woke up. Her throat burned from screaming, and her whole body shook with nerves. She released a shuddering breath and tried pushing herself up. It took a few tries, but once she sat up, back straight against the pillows, Bex curled her arms around herself.

After her first Games, Bex had more trauma than anyone could imagine. It felt a lot like this. The last thing she wanted was to revert back to that place. A few months after coming home from her Victory tour, sixteen-year-old Bex visited the local healer in Seven. There was no one else to go to  _ but  _ a healer, and she didn't dare trust any physician in the Capitol to help. She asked the healer how to get rid of nightmares. Sensing her trauma, the healer recommended all that she knew. "You have to get control over your own body," she said. "Remind yourself that you're still present."

The healer couldn't do much to help her predicament. There weren't many resources for traumatized Victors anyway. But somehow, someway that tactic still helped Bex through even the worst panic attacks.

Inhaling the sweat still clinging to her shirt, Bex centered herself in the room. Her arms tightened around her own body as she whispered, "My name is Bex Nassar. I'm from District Seven. I am the Victor of the sixty-seventh Hunger Games. I was forced back into the arena for the Third Quarter Quell." She swallowed hard when the memories tried to resurface, but she pushed them away. "I survived. Finnick survived. Johanna survived. But Keaton – Nico –"

Bex coughed and began choking on a sob. She breathed out heavily, swallowing it down. The sob burned its way down her throat and begged for release, but she continued to ignore it. This was the only way to get better, to get a grip on reality. There was no way she'd be getting out of this hospital room if she continued to let her mind plague her with memories. She needed to be in control now.

She focused on her breathing and rubbed at her eyes. They stung with fresh tears. But she wouldn't let her trauma win. She looked for a means of distraction while scanning the room.

And a distraction is just what she found.

In the dark hue of the window on her door, Bex could've sworn she saw two sea-green eyes staring back at her. The same eyes that were once lively and made her want to drown in them, but now they just looked dead. She inched closer to the edge of the bed, not breaking her stare. She feared that if she did, she'd lose him forever. All she wanted was to be closer to him – someone who understood all the pain and agony she was feeling right now.

She wanted Finnick.

But alas, the second she blinked, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo little bit of a surprise here! Bex actually managed to get to District 13!! I received one comment on here (and a lot more on Wattpad, where I also post this story) that was thinking and/or hoping she'd be in the Capitol, but I threw in some hints here in there in the last chapter to throw you off 🤣 Alas, I'm also not creative enough to have her in the Capitol with Peeta and subject her to all that torture. I've killed off a lot of my OCs in the past, but I just can't do it anymore y'all, I really can't 😭 So no more violent torture for Bex. Act III will be a lot of mental torture for her as she deals with her own trauma and coming to terms with it, but ❌ no more violent afflictions on her from gross, old men ❌
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys liked this chapter and are excited about Act III!


	35. EXPOSITION

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

#####  **__________________________**

** JOHANNA ** visited her for the next few days. Despite still being angry with her for locking her inside, Bex was grateful to have some human interaction. She felt completely useless being idle, but it wasn't like she could do much else with a back brace on. During Johanna's daily check-ins, she usually brought a nurse with her that would inspect Bex's spine. When she looked in the mirror during the inspections, she thought she looked like a robot with the brace. It made her body all bulky, but taking it off looked so much worse. Her reflection was all shriveled up, loose limbs and all. Not to mention, her whole body stunk because she couldn't bathe with the brace on.

It was a series of unfortunate events after the other.

Thankfully, Bex was unconscious for so long after the rescue that her spine healed a lot on its own. The day finally came a week later when Johanna waltzed inside her hospital, a huge grin spread out on her lips. "Good news," she said, "your brace is going to be taken off today!"

Bex pushed herself up using her elbows. She'd gotten quite good at moving around in the brace over the past couple of days. She almost dreaded taking it off and learning how to mobilize herself all over again. "Thank the gods," she groaned, running a hand through her oily hair. "I can't wait to take a proper shower. They do have  _ those  _ around here, right?"

"You're not living in a jungle, Bex. Of course, there are showers."

She went still at the mention of jungles. Turning to Johanna, her eye twitched. She didn't realize a mere word could cause a reaction.

"Never mind. Sorry, forget I said that," Johanna muttered, sitting down on her bed. "Sadly,  _ this  _ –" She pointed to Bex's hand splint. "– Won't be taken off for another week, maybe more. You really fucked your hand up during your freak-out."

Bex narrowed her eyes. "I think that so-called,  _ freak-out _ , was pretty valid. I can't stand not doing anything. I want out of here."

Johanna shook her head. "No can do, Flower Girl. You're suffering down in this bunker with the rest of us."

"Is there anything being done to rescue my brother and the other Victors?"

Her lips pursed. "Yes, I've heard President Coin is on it. She runs District Thirteen. I'm sure you'll meet her soon." Bex opened her mouth to speak, to call her out on her bullshit, but Johanna put a finger to her lips and tucked her in more. "Maybe you can at least see Finnick today."

Bex swallowed, but nothing could stop her mouth from drying. She grabbed the glass of water from her table and took a sip, attempting to distract Johanna from answering. But the younger Victor was smarter than she looked. Her brow shot up and her grin became wider. How obvious was it on her face?

Seeing Finnick was all she wanted since she woke up, but now that the opportunity arose ... she wasn't sure what to make of it. Her body trembled.

As she set down the glass, Johanna quipped, "That fake relationship turned out to be pretty real, huh? I suspected as much, and frankly, I'd like to take credit for it."

Bex scoffed, "You're so annoying." She hoped that was enough for Johanna to drop it, but her smirk didn't fade.

Before Johanna could call out her deflecting, the door opened and she sprung to her feet. Maryam walked inside with a clipboard held to her chest. Bex hadn't seen her since the day she broke her hand. She placed her clipboard down on the side table while approaching Bex's bed. "Ready to take off your brace?" She asked with a hopeful expression, and then turned to Johanna on her right. "You should probably get back to your post."

Johanna nodded her head firmly, but still managed to send Bex a wave before departing. Maryam smiled down at Bex and instructed her to stand. "How you also been moving your fingers?" She asked while guiding the Victor over to the mirror. Bex nodded and held her arms straight out, flexing her fingers. Her knuckles cracked softly at the movement.

Maryam began the process of removing her brace. It didn't seem as complicated when other nurses did it during her inspections, but she guessed they didn't remove the full thing. There seemed to be a few layers to it. First, Maryam unstrapped the hard, outside shell. Bex felt an immense relief from just that being discarded. It made her feel so much heavier. Maryam then removed the rod in the gel second layer that kept her back completely straight, and finally, the third layer made of soft cushion.

"Alright," she breathed, meeting Bex's eyes in the mirror. Maryam slowly brushed her fingertips on Bex's bruised spine, causing the Victor to immediately move away. "Sorry, I know it's a little tender. Just stay still."

Bex hissed in pain again when Maryam touched her back, but she planted her feet on the floor and refused to move. She smelled so terrible. Just inhaling her stench made her want to barf. She looked at herself in the mirror, ogling her skinny arms that used to be quite muscled. Even her cheekbones had thinned out, probably due to the malnourishment in the arena. Her nose was now sticking out like a sore thumb on her significantly skinnier face.

"Still bruised, but it's healed very well since you got here. I think you'll recover just fine." Maryam stood up straighter and grazed the top of Bex's spine, where the bruise was darker. "Just remember to be gentle. It's still healing."

"Can I take a bath today?" Bex asked, looking over her shoulder.

Maryam smiled, "Of course. Just let me take this away and I'll guide you to the bathrooms."

Bex grimaced. She'd been hoping for just a simple tub pulled into her room for privacy, but she guessed that wasn't a virtue here. After disposing of her brace, Maryam came back and asked Bex to follow her. She did as told, following the nurse down the maze of hallways. This was the first time she was being let out of her room, and she was taking it all in. Physicians flooded the halls, probably all volunteers, and the walls were painted a dull gray color. Bex allowed Maryam to lead her into a dark room, and when the light switch was flipped on, she noticed it was filled with sectioned off stalls, each containing their own steel bathtub. Some were already unavailable and Bex heard some technicians fighting with a screaming patient who didn't like the shampoo they were using. A couple of other nurses were gathered around one stall in the middle and place some bathing essentials inside.

Looking over her shoulder, Bex gave Maryam a wary glance. "Go on. That one in the middle," Maryam said, pointing to the free stall that the nurses were now leaving. "Take as long as you need. Someone will be waiting outside to take you back to your room."

With a nod, Bex ventured into the bathrooms and rounded the corner into her stall. She locked it immediately, pressing her forehead to the door. She still couldn't believe that they let her out. Once again, she was left alone with her own detrimental thoughts, but at least she wasn't in that cot anymore.

After removing her clothes, she turned to the tub and realized the nurses had filled it with hot water. Steam rose from the surface and beckoned her forward. She dipped one toe in and hissed from the heat, but eventually dunked her whole body inside. Bex engulfed herself with the warm water, wetting her hair, allowing it to run down her face. She breathed in the steam like it was pure oxygen.

She reached over the side and grabbed the bar of white soap. Bex wasn't sure how dirty her skin was, but she imagined it had to be pretty bad to reek so much. She scrubbed the soap into her flesh, into every crevice. She wouldn't stop until every area was clean.

Slowly, she leaned back and rested her spine against the side. Her eyes crinkled the tiniest bit, but she had gotten used to the pain. It wasn't as bad as when she woke up, though, and for that, she was thankful. With a sigh, Bex pushed herself underneath the water.

When she opened her eyes, they tingled, and she was reminded yet again how it felt to almost drown in the Quell's torrential ocean. Her hands were gripping the sides of the tub, so she had more leverage, but it was so easy to be underneath the water and transport herself back to the arena, reaching for Nico as he sunk to the bottom. Right now, she wasn't sure if her eyes were stinging from having them open or if she was crying. It was getting difficult to breathe. Soon, water would enter her lungs and she might see the light again. The same light that flashed across her vision before she bumped her head underwater.

Someone a few stalls down screamed, and Bex immediately jolted up.

Her back ached from the sudden movement. She heaved and dug her nails into the lip of the bathtub. Bex felt like slapping herself for being so stupid, for even just  _ tempting  _ herself to stay underneath longer. But it was also kind of funny. She had been so terrified the last day of the Quell. She was so afraid to die and couldn't bear the thought of it. After coming so close to death, it didn't seem scary anymore. In fact, it was a little inviting, and she was suddenly so willing to tempt fate again, just to see what it felt like.

After thoroughly scrubbing her hair with shampoo and conditioner – and attempting to forget what she had  _ almost  _ done – Bex stood from the tub. The water had gone lukewarm, barely enjoyable anymore. She grabbed the towel left for her and dried herself off before putting on a new hospital gown. How she longed for the days of wearing pants or even the Capitol's too-tight costumes. She always felt the need to bunch up the back of her gown when she walked; anyone could see her backside if she didn't.

Just as Maryam said, a bored, teenager in a pair of gray scrubs was waiting for her outside the bathrooms. Most likely another volunteer. The teenager beckoned her with a wave of his hand and led her back to her room. He glanced over his shoulder every so often, ogling her, enough to make Bex remember that she was  _ still _ a Victor. She wasn't unknown here.

The boy stopped at her room and held open the door. As she approached the frame, felt the four walls close in on her again, the teenager said, "You're safe here."

Bex turned and eyed him suspiciously. "What?"

"You're safe in Thirteen. I should know. I grew up here." He sent her a pitiful smile before closing the door.

The sound of the lock clicking in place made her cringe.

She tried sleeping for a while, but she woke up far too often. Wearing no back brace made it a lot easier to lay down, and yet, she couldn't stay asleep. At some point, Bex got frustrated and sat up. She paced around her room for a few minutes, watching the clock hands with a strange interest. It was almost eight PM. Too late to take a nap, but too early to go to sleep for the night.

Bex stretched her sides before then flexing her back. She bent down and then stood up a few times. It wasn't a gentle stretch, like Maryam had asked, but the pain somehow made her feel a little bit better. It reminded her that she was still here, still  _ human _ . And it was nothing like the searing pain she felt when her back hit that tree in the arena. She could handle this.

The lights in her room dimmed, which she came to realize meant the hospital was shutting down for the night. Besides the techs on their night shifts, most of the physicians were retreating to wherever they stayed in Thirteen. (Bex hoped she'd find out soon. She wouldn't stay in this hospital room for another week.) Approaching the door, Bex cupped her hands over her eyes and peered out the window. The corridor was dark, and she didn't see anyone patrolling her hall. She knew it was a lost cause, but she still reached out to jiggle the doorknob.

The last thing she expected was for the door to open.

Her eyes went wide. The boy hadn't locked it.

She let the door open fully, giving her an open view of the hallway. A light flickered in a common area up ahead, and a nurse was seated at the desk, snoring with her head in her hands. Bex licked her lips with anticipation. Cautiously, she took one step outside the room.

Bex stood in the hall and looked around. No alarms went off. No one came running to shove her back inside. This was just a sliver of freedom and she was going to take it.

Her feet padded down the dark corridor. Every step was attentive and careful. She craned her neck to look into each room before stepping in front of the door. She needed to take every precaution; she didn't intend on getting caught anytime soon.

In the room next to her, a man in a wheelchair hunched over a pair of knitting needles. When he pushed his glasses up and revealed his face to the window, Bex realized it was Beetee. He looked so stout in the wheelchair. He was knitting a long scarf, made of brown yarn, sighing as he went on. Bex almost didn't recognize this shell of the Beetee she once knew.

To her surprise, Beetee looked up. He studied the purple and blue bags underneath her eyes, the frown on her lips, before smiling genuinely at her. As genuine as he could be, she guessed. Bex slowly raised her hand and waved.

She continued down the hall. With bated breath, she tip-toed around the sleeping nurse at the desk before planting her bare feet back on the cold floor. Peering into another room, Bex recognized Katniss Everdeen in a hospital cot. A ventilator was strapped to her face, helping her breathe as she slept, while her black hair cascaded around the pillow. Her olive skin looked pale, but she was just as beautiful. Surprisingly, she didn't look as damaged as Bex, but her spine probably didn't collide with a tree. Even with a ventilator, she still looked like the Girl on Fire, the ferocious Victor that the Capitol loved. Maybe not so much anymore.

Johanna told Bex yesterday that the hospital staff was hoping she'd wake up soon. Katniss was taking longer to heal due to significant blood loss and a brain injury. Apparently, she also had an old hearing aid from the Capitol in her left ear, meaning she had been deaf for quite some time. Even during the Quarter Quell. Johanna said the nurses destroyed the aid and provided her with a near one. They expected a quick recovery for Katniss. The doctors were very confident around here. It made Bex want to roll her eyes.

Turning her head, Bex realized the next room ahead had its door wide open, practically inviting her in. Her brow knitted together as she stepped towards it, stopping right in front of the door frame. Only a single, orange light highlighted half of the face before her, but Bex didn't need much to recognize him. She could find him in the darkest of jungles, in the dead of night.

Finnick was currently sitting up in his cot, dangling his feet over the side. The bags underneath his eyes were a replica of her own. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. In his hand was a thick piece of rope, so long that the end was dragging across the floor. He kept knotting it, over and over and over again. The rope got shorter each time he made a new knot and tightened it. He didn't even notice Bex standing in the doorway. His eyes wouldn't leave the rope.

Bex placed a hand on the doorframe and pursed her lips. She stared him down, dark irises burning into the side of his face, but he was too focused. Finnick formed another knot and the rope was an inch shorter.

Finally, she whispered, "Finnick."

He stopped abruptly, as if he had become completely paralyzed. Slowly, his head turned to face her, and she could see his whole expression now. A thin scar was now etched onto his forehead. His mouth quivered as he said, "Bex." His head dipped down and he looked at the rope, thumbs brushing over the rough material. "I'm sorry."

She swallowed hard, eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Wh – Why are you apologizing?"

"I –" He stopped and shook his head. "I was too afraid to come talk to you when Johanna told me you woke up. I thought you might hate me."

Bex didn't hesitate when she replied, "I don't think I could ever really hate you."

It was true. Probably the most truthful statement she ever said. Even when she thought she disliked him, Bex was never sure that it was ever real. She couldn't hate him. Like a lot of people, she, too, was susceptible to Finnick's charm, and allowed herself to drown in it so far that she could no longer be pulled out.

Finnick met her eyes again. Her reply startled him, causing words to fall dead on his mouth. He hesitated before muttering, "I never told you what I knew about the plan when we were  _ there _ – in the arena. I should've. But cameras were always on us – I should've said –" Tears welled up in his eyes. He began to knot aggressively.

Bex took one step forward and put a hand out, but didn't move close enough to touch him. He looked so fragile in that moment, like a doll. She'd always seen Finnick as this impenetrable wall, even when he opened up to her. She didn't think he could crumble like this. But that was a by-product of humanity: even the strongest can so easily become weakened.

"Please," she said, "you don't have to –"

"I heard about your brother. And Peeta. And everyone else." Finnick shook his head again, refusing to meet her eyes. "He doesn't deserve to be put into this. And neither do you."

She frowned. "I don't need any more pity, Finnick."

"I'm sorry. Again." He looped another knot. "I'm so sorry, Bex. I'm –"

"Finnick?" Her voice was calm, none of the usual insolence. "Can you do something for me?" She took another step forward.

He viewed up at her again. His eyes were bloodshot, even when he blinked away the tears. "Anything."

"Can you ..." She swallowed hard. Her hands slapped against her sides. "Can you just hold me?"

The rope immediately slipped from his hands, bouncing against the floor. Finnick moved up on the cot and settled back against the pillows. "Yeah, yeah," he said, flipping over the blankets, "of course."

Bex smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She didn't know why. Her chapped lips were spread thin, and she couldn't quite let herself be happy. Not when there still so much at stake in Panem. But she'd allow herself to enjoy this – his warm, familiar embrace – and maybe it would help him too.

She hesitated before walking over to the other side of the bed and crawling underneath the mound of blankets. Finnick's arm was open wide, and she curled herself against his side as she laid down. Two arms wrapped around her, warm and inviting. A sharp pain slid up her body when Finnick placed his hand on her spine, but she soon relaxed, allowing it to settle. Bex rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. When she breathed in deeply, she was surprised to find out he still smelled like the ocean.

"Thank you," Bex murmured. She didn't exactly have a reason for saying it. It just felt right. She tilted her head up and opened her eyes. Finnick was staring at her.

Her lips parted. She still couldn't be sure what was between them since the arena. The world was so different outside of it. Suddenly, everything that was said in the arena didn't feel as real. The tension between them was thick, causing a few beads of sweat to form at her brow. She knew neither of them was willing to ask about what they said to each other, but they both felt something there.

Bex reached out and cupped one side of his face. She allowed her thumb to graze the scar, causing him to wince, before her hand settled on his cheek. Some stubble was growing, darker than his golden, bronze hair.

She felt the tension again, pulling them together like magnets. Bex's tongue darted across her bottom lip. Finnick waited for her to move.

A beat of silence passed before Bex closed the distance between them, pressing her lips against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I titled this "Exposition" simply because I thought it had a lot of boring exposition lol


	36. THE MOCKINGJAY

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

#####  **__________________________**

** BEX ** didn't quite know the rules of District Thirteen, but she guessed sneaking into someone else's hospital room was breaking one of them. Luckily for her, she woke up almost an hour before most of the staff came in for their morning shifts. Finnick's arms were still wrapped around her, but they had slid down to her waist during the night, and his neck now leaned back against a pillow. Bex carefully shifted out of his hold and tip-toed back to her room, not saying a word.

She didn't even think about what happened last night.

After sleeping for another few hours, Bex woke up and expected a stern talking to from whoever watched a playback of the cameras last night. But it seemed her late-night visit was the least of everyone's concern once Katniss Everdeen finally slipped out of unconsciousness. Everyone had been waiting for her – literally,  _ everyone _ . Bex watched groups of nurses run down to the Mockingjay's room from behind her door. She imagined that Katniss was probably really confused right now, and apparently, everyone wanted to witness it.

Later that day, Johanna came waltzing in her room, hardly noticing that the door had been unlocked. She simply gave Bex a knowing smile, which meant she had  _ definitely  _ watched a playback from the cameras, but she wouldn't embarrass Bex. Johanna was all for poking fun, but something told her that Bex's visit to see Finnick was serious. She could be a good friend when she wanted to be.

Johanna revealed a set of clothes from behind her back and threw them on top of Bex's cot. Knitting her brow, Bex stood and unfurled the clothes. It was a medium gray jumpsuit, along with a cream-colored thermal shirt.

"New rags," Johanna explained. "Everyone wears these. Should be more waiting for you in whatever pod they give you, but it's just more of the same."

"Pod?" Bex asked, turning to her friend.

"Living quarters," she clarified. "You'll see once you're let out."

Bex's brow now shot up. "So I'm getting out?"

"Don't get too excited. You're healed enough to leave the  _ hospital _ , but now you gotta learn the ways of Thirteen. It's a lot different from Seven." Johanna walked forward and took Bex's arm, pointing to the underside of it. "You'll be given a temporary tattoo here every day with your schedule for the day."

"So I basically have no freedom."

"No, you do, but ..." Johanna let go of her arm. "Sometimes we have to make sacrifices in war."

Bex frowned. She disagreed, but she didn't have the strength in her to argue with Johanna. Once she left her room, Bex inspected the grey jumpsuit again. She used to complain for  _ hours  _ about the Capitol's fashion standards, but maybe she should start being careful what she wished for. This jumpsuit was  _ hideous _ .

Ugliness aside, at least it fit properly, and it was big enough to move around in. Bex put on her thermal shirt first before zipping up her jumpsuit, and then looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes looked so dark and desolate. Her face doesn't have the same youthfulness it used to, and her copper skin was still slightly pale. She ran her hands through her hair and pulled it into a ponytail, trying to make the best of it.

She now looked like the rest of Thirteen. The only difference between her and them was the pretty ring still sitting on her finger, the emerald so vivid, even in the dimmest of light.

The door opened again. Bex had been playing with her mother's ring. She turned around half-expecting to see Johanna again, but found herself halting at the familiar face.

Plutarch smiled at her as he entered the room, followed by a tall man dressed head-to-toe in black. He had soft, kind eyes and umber-colored skin. Bex turned to Plutarch with a scowl. She opened her mouth to shout at him, but the former Gamemaker was already gesturing towards the man she didn't recognize.

"Miss Nassar, this is Colonel Boggs. District Thirteen's Head of Security." He cleared his throat and Boggs stretched out his hand. Bex shook it, but her glare didn't waver from Plutarch. "So – um – I know you've been waiting for a long time to get discharged and  _ surprise _ , the day has come. I need you to follow me. President Coin wishes to speak with you."

Her top lip curled as an uncontrollable rage flooded through her. This  _ stupid _ _ man  _ – this  _ Gamemaker  _ – neglected to tell her so much of the plan she involved herself in. He played all these Victors, as any Gamemaker would. No matter if he fulfilled his promise, no matter if he was leading the rebellion – she was furious. She hoped the look on her face made him nervous.

Bex rushed forward, swinging her fists in Plutarch's direction. Boggs managed to grab her arms and hold them behind her back. She tried wriggling out of his hold, but Boggs was clearly ten times stronger than her and twice as tall. He wasn't Head of Security for nothing. His grip felt like wrought iron against her wrists.

Plutarch held up his hands in surrender. "I understand that you're angry about your brother –"

"Are you  _ kidding me _ ?! It is  _ more  _ than that, Plutarch." Bex huffed and settled down. She looked up at Boggs sweetly, and he slowly released her arms, backing away to stand by Plutarch. Bex smoothed out the lines in her jumpsuit before pointing directly at the Gamemaker. "You  _ never  _ told me your full plan. For what fucking reason, I have no idea. But you didn't and I was left in the dark. You even had Nico  _ sacrifice _ himself for an unknown cause. Do you know what it's like to watch someone you've known for years drown?  _ Do you? _ "

Plutarch glanced at Boggs before viewing at his feet. "No, I don't."

"Of course,  _ you don't _ . But I  _ do _ ," she argued, "and I have to live with that memory for the rest of my life. I have to now remember the faces of more lives I took in that arena. I have to worry about my brother –"

With a sigh, Plutarch took a step closer and put his hands on her shoulders. Bex didn't move away, much to her own surprise. "We  _ will _ get your brother back." He licked at his lips and shrugged. "And I could never tell you the full scope of the plan, Bex. You and I both know how closely tied you are to the Capitol  _ and _ Snow. I could only say so much."

She scoffed and shoved his hands off. "How do I know you'll save Keaton?"

"I promised you once that I'd end the Games," he replied, mouth hinting at a smile. "This revolution will do just that. As long as we  _ work together _ . Trust me."

Those were pretty big promises for a man who had seemingly betrayed her trust once. But Bex couldn't help relenting. Something about Plutarch was so genuine, the kind you couldn't fake. She was angry with him still, but she decided he didn't exactly betray her. He had been doing what he thought was right. And she only had so many allies in Thirteen. She needed Plutarch, as much as he constantly rattled her.

Bex finally released a weakened huff and nodded. Plutarch smiled.

"Now," he said, bushy eyebrows raised, "will you let me and Colonel Boggs escort you to President Coin?"

She gestured to the open door. "Lead the way, soldiers."

Plutarch led her down a long corridor. Boggs strode behind her, and she could feel him watching her back the whole way. The hospital's exit was just an elevator, which Bex guessed brought you up to different levels of the bunker. Once inside, Boggs pulled down the steel door and Plutarch pressed one of the several buttons on the keypad. Bex stood in between them, glancing at each man for a short second, feeling the awkward tension rise. She attempted to distract herself by watching the levels open up in front of her. It was amazing,  _ really _ , how many floors seemed to be in this bunker. No wonder why they survived for so many years.

"It's incredible," she whispered.

"We're military. We learned to survive down here," Boggs answered, causing Bex to turn to him. "War never stopped for us."

The elevator shook before coming to a halt. Boggs lifted the door and Plutarch took the lead again, gesturing Bex towards an open door. Bex walked inside without question, not expecting the large room before her. A long table with an illuminated surface sat in the middle, several chairs placed around it. A projector hung from the ceiling on one side of the room, while the other side had a large whiteboard. Statistics and numbers were currently being broadcasted from the projection, causing Bex's brow to furrow.

Turning her head, she realized that she must've been the last one to arrive at this meeting. Beetee sat in his wheelchair on the right. Johanna and Finnick were placed right next to them, twiddling their fingers. Katniss was at the head of the table, near a silver-haired woman with pale grey eyes.

Bex watched Boggs wave goodbye from over her shoulder, and when she faced the crowd again, Plutarch was putting a hand on the silver-haired woman's shoulder. "Madam President," he called, "may I present you to one of my favorite Victors, Bex Nassar."

Coin stood immediately and walked over to her. "The Flower Girl," she said directly. Her voice was calming, yet assertive. She glanced at Plutarch before turning back to Bex with a smile. "Those prissy Capitol people certainly gave you a pretty title. Fits well. It's an honor to meet you."

_ Prissy _ . A word so simple set Bex's anxiety off almost instantly. Iliana said it a lot – the same Iliana she just found out was hinting towards the revolution in her designs. Where was her team exactly?

Bex blinked and suddenly realized Coin was still talking.

"I realize how disorienting this must be," she said, hands locked around hers.

Bex's eyes flickered towards Katniss, who smiled sadly at her. She looked so tired. They must've escorted her here as soon as she woke up.

"I can't imagine what it's like to live through the atrocities of those Games," the President continued. "Hopefully, we won't anymore."

"Bex," Plutarch grinned, gesturing to the woman, "this is President Alma Coin, leader of District Thirteen."

Bex realized them, being so close to her, that Coin's eyes were almost cat-like. She looked near fifty, but her eyes were youthful and incredibly pale, as if the color had been sucked away. Her smile was similar to Snow's – it didn't reach her eyes.

"Take a seat," she said while walking with Plutarch towards their chairs. Bex rounded the table and sat beside Finnick. He smiled at her softly and didn't hesitate to squeeze her hand from underneath the table once she sat down. Suddenly, she was completely at ease.

Lacing her fingers together, Coin said, "Please know, Victors, how welcome you are here. I hope you will all find some comfort with us. We've known loss in Thirteen too."

Plutarch smacked a hand against the table. Bex flinched the tiniest bit. "History in the making. Right here at this table."

"What kind of loss, may I ask?" Everyone looked at Katniss as soon as the question fell from her mouth. For someone so tired, she was attentive now and willing to listen. "I realize we don't have the time to go over the entire history of Thirteen, but I'm sure every Victor in this room can attest that we were taught for years that Thirteen was just a pile of ash. Completely destroyed."

"That was in our agreement. The secrecy," Coin beamed. "We were Panem's military-industrial complex until the first rebellion. Thirteen was always a major supporter of the rebellion, and the Capitol suffered from it greatly. We had the military they needed to win, but they had more money, more sources. They had a nuclear weapon stockpile. When we realized the tide was turning on us during the first war, we seized their primary nuclear source, but they still had a secondary stockpile out west. The Capitol was going to win with that. So Thirteen negotiated a peace treaty with them, under the threat of mutually assured destruction. They allowed us to secede as an independent state. Then, we would withdraw all support for the rebels in the other Districts and pretend to have been destroyed above ground. The Capitol agreed. We evacuated to a wide range underground bunker and the Capitol obliterated the above-ground infrastructure. Everyone believed we were destroyed. Without our support, the rebellion collapsed. And we made you all believe we were gone,  _ a pile of ash _ . But we continued to fortify our position underground. Waiting for  _ this day _ ."

Bex arched a brow. "So what you're saying is that if you hadn't abandoned the rebels all those years ago, we wouldn't be in this situation now?"

Coin slowly turned to face her. "Thirteen did what it needed to persevere. I'm sure you Victors can relate to that sentiment." She spoke gravely, and then leaned back in her chair, looking to everyone else at the table. "That's as short as I can make it. I wish we had more time so I could get into the nitty, gritty details of our history and bore you all to sleep, but unfortunately, we don't have that luxury."

Bex sat back in her seat, feeling defeated.

"Katniss," Coin breathed, glancing towards the teenager at the head of the table, "are you aware of what's happened?"

Katniss stared blankly at her.

"When you fired your arrow at the forcefield, you electrified the nation," she began. "There have been riots and uprisings and strikes in seven Districts. We believe that if we keep this energy going, we could unify the Districts against the Capitol. But if we don't ... if we let it dissipate, we could be waiting another seventy-five years for this opportunity. Everyone in Thirteen is ready for this."

Coin was speaking directly to Katniss, but all the other Victors felt it: the wave of anxiety, the thrill of anticipation. Plutarch was right. History  _ was _ in the making at this table.

"What about Peeta?" Katniss asked. Her grey eyes formed into slits, pinned on Plutarch. "Is he alive?"

"I don't know," replied Plutarch, "and I wish that I did. But there's no way for me to contact my operatives inside the Capitol. We'll get him back," he turned to scan the Victors, gaze burning into Bex's, "as well as any others."

Bex would hold him to that statement.

Beetee added, "The Capitol has always suppressed communication between the Districts. But ... I know their system very well. I managed to break through. All we need now is the perfect message."

"Katniss," Plutarch called, "here's what we need to do. We need to show them the Mockingjay is alive and well.  _ And _ willing to stand up and join this fight. 'Cause we need every District to stand up to this Capitol the way you did."

Katniss was looking at her hands. Bex could see the panic written over her face, causing the frown lines near her mouth to deepen. This was a lot of pressure to put on a teenager. Hadn't she just turned seventeen after Peeta proposed? They were treating her like she knew what she was doing, but Bex had known in that moment – when she watched Katniss fire her arrow at the forcefield – that she didn't have a clue about the implications. She was just trying to save Peeta. She was merely a teenager.

Plutarch continued, "So we're gonna shoot a series of propaganda clips.  _ Propos _ , I like to call them. Spreads the word. And then we're gonna stoke the fire of this rebellion – the fire that the Mockingjay started."

Katniss' glare could cut through steel. Her jaw clenched as she stared at the Gamemaker. " _ You _ left him there. You left  _ Peeta _ in that arena to  _ die _ ."

"Katniss, there's so many –"

She smacked a hand against the table, causing the legs to shake. " _ Peeta _ was the one who was supposed to  _ live _ !"

"Miss Everdeen," Coin placed a hand over Katniss', "this revolution is about everyone. It's about all of us. And we need a voice."

"Then you should've saved Peeta."

With one last scowl in Plutarch's direction, Katniss stomped out of the room and allowed the doors to shut behind her.


	37. THE ULTIMATE PRICE

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

#####  **__________________________**

**PRESIDENT** Coin sent Plutarch a disappointed look before turning to the rest of the Victors. They went still, not knowing what to do after Katniss' outburst. "You all may go," Coin finally said, leaning back in her chair.

The Victors shared a glance before standing and heading for the door. Finnick made sure his hand left Bex's, but their fingers still itched for each other. A hollow feeling entered her chest. He then began to walk beside her, and she could feel his hand grazing the small of her back, as they approached the exit.

"Just a reminder," Coin added, and the Victors turned to face her. "Your daily chores start tomorrow. Use the stamp in your rooms to receive your temporary tattoo with your schedule. The chores won't be much. You lot are still recovering, after all. But it'll keep you occupied." She sent them a tight-lipped smile. "Have a nice day, Victors, and welcome to Thirteen."

Not one of them responded. Bex figured that they all had a similar feeling of distrust for Coin. How could they not? If the Hunger Games taught them anything, it was that trust was fleeting. Coin may have saved them, but they didn't have to trust her right away.

Outside the board room, a group of people all in the same grey jumpsuit waited for the Victors. A female with wide-set blue eyes approached Bex and urged her to follow. Instead of leading her to the elevator, the escort took the stairs. Bex held onto the railing as they descended and looked out past the stairwell, watching the levels curl downward. She wondered how far down they were. No hotel in the Capitol looked as expansive as this.

"Amazing, isn't it?" The female said, waiting for Bex at the bottom of another staircase. Bex hadn't realized she stopped to admire until the escort spoke up. "We're at the seventh level. Come on now."

Bex hopped down the last few steps and trailed the woman across the floor. They stopped at a room labeled, _731_ , and Bex was handed a key. "This is your room," the escort said. "If you'd like a different room assignment, discuss with Plutarch Heavensbee."

"Well –" Bex halted her words when she realized the escort was already walking away, back down the winding staircase. She grumbled underneath her breath and stuck the key in the lock, twisting the door open. 

Her heart was suddenly leaping out of her chest the second she stepped inside. She almost dropped her key.

Phoenix sat on her bed, a wide grin spread on his lips.

" _Gods!_ " She exclaimed, sliding the door closed. Phoenix stood and opened his arms. Bex ran into his embrace. "Phoenix! I can't believe you're here. Oh, my –"

"I know," he breathed into her hair, leaning back to place his hands on her shoulders. "Imagine my surprise when I found out I was one of the few Capitol people they saved. I think Plutarch knew you'd kill him if he didn't. Speaking of _him_ , what a twist, right? Head Gamemaker is secretly the leader of a revolution. I couldn't make it up if I even tried."

Bex giggled before turning to look at the room. She had a desk built into the wall and a few lights set in the ceiling. Her bed was formed into the opposite wall of her desk, raised slightly from the ground, with what looked like a super-firm mattress on top. Two grey blankets were placed at the end of the bed and one pillow. Bex grimaced.

"It's not much, but ..." Phoenix shrugged when she met his eyes. "Thankfully, you have the whole room to yourself. I'm on the twentieth level. Not sure how many are in here, but I don't even remember a hotel in the Capitol having that many floors."

"I was thinking the same thing –" Bex stopped herself, studying his words. If Phoenix was one of the few Capitol citizens saved, then ... "Hey, where's Iliana?"

Phoenix slowly removed his hands. His expression turned grave, causing Bex's eyes to narrow. Her stomach began doing flip flops. If Phoenix had been saved, Iliana should've been too –

"When Plutarch came for me, there was so little time ..." He trailed off and shook his head. "I almost didn't go with him. I thought whatever story he was spouting about a rebellion was a lie. I was sure he was on some kind of drug. But I took a chance, and it was probably the smartest decision I ever made. Iliana, on the other hand ..."

Bex's jaw set. " _Phoenix_."

"There wasn't enough time to save the both of us," he blurted. "Plutarch grabbed me as he was leaving for a hovercraft, headed to District Thirteen. There wasn't enough time. I wish there was ..." Phoenix rubbed at his eye. Bex couldn't tell if he was crying or not. "By the time they rescued me, the Capitol had already taken her. Plutarch had been in close contact with some operatives in the Capitol before the connection was severed. He heard that she was murdered."

She felt a sharp pain in her chest as she took a step back. This didn't feel real. But to be fair, _nothing_ did at the moment. Thirteen wasn't supposed to be real. Her brother being captured couldn't be real. And Iliana's death sounded like some kind of sick joke. Bex swallowed down a sob that threatened to resonate. She clutched her chest and looked away.

"I know," Phoenix sighed, "I know."

Bex shook her head. " _Why?_ What reason would they have to kill her? She loved the Capitol. She never once questioned Snow or anyone –"

"Do you remember what I told you before you went into the arena?"

She turned back to him, throat going dry. _Of course_ , she remembered. A betrayal like that is something she'd never forget. But still ... Iliana was so publicly devoted to Snow's regime.

Phoenix pursed his lips. "Last we heard, after hours of torture, Iliana confessed the real message behind the white roses in her designs. And then, nothing. Besides an obituary in the Capitol paper. Beetee found transcripts of it online."

Bex always took Iliana for granted, and that's something you only realize when someone is gone. She had never really liked Iliana, even when her stylist had been as sweet as can be. She thought of her as just another Capitol citizen, loyal to Snow and her duties. In Bex's eyes, Iliana liked to follow the rules and make pretty outfits, which was wrong. _So fucking wrong._ Iliana's outfits were intentional. They always had a message.

And she was executed for it.

Bex blinked the tears away, remembering the first time she met Iliana. She had just been poked and prodded by the staff at the Remake Center, left on a steel table in a room marked, _DISTRICT SEVEN_. Iliana had burst through the door, dressed in vivid greens with a sparkly, yellow wig. Bex was in pain from the work done to her teeth, and the last thing she wanted was to be bothered by an exuberant Capitol person. But then, Iliana had put her hands on sixteen-year-old Bex's shoulders and said, "You are one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen. I'm going to make you into the star you were born to be."

For some reason, that had made Bex feel better. Maybe it was the gleam in Iliana's eyes, or her perfectly-bright smile. Or the way it looked like she _truly_ meant it. It just made Bex feel complete. She remembered taking Iliana's soft hand and smiling.

That time was so far away now, a distant memory of a ghost long gone. Bex turned back to Phoenix and noticed him looking at his feet. He sighed, "It should've been me, Bex. Not her –"

"Don't say that," she whispered.

Phoenix looked up.

"If Iliana knew you were saying that, she'd be furious," Bex chuckled. She wouldn't let herself cry, not when they had so much to be thankful for. Bex then raised her voice higher, replicating Iliana's voice, " _Oh, Phoenix, you can't just be the hero for one second._ "

He laughed along, "You're right." When the room became silent, he placed a hand on her shoulder, his dark stare burning into hers. "I'm not going to leave you, Bex. We're still a team. Even when the Games are over, even when the Capitol is demolished. We'll always be a team."

Bex smiled softly and put her hand on top of his. Her calloused fingers squeezed his own.

"Even if I wanted to leave, I can't now. I have no job. There's definitely a warrant out for my arrest. Looks like you're stuck with me." He bobbed his head from side-to-side. "And who else is going to help Effie Trinket dress the Mockingjay?"

"Seriously?" Bex's lips curled at the corners. "That's great, Phoenix!"

"Granted whatever we make will be worn in propagandas and not on a runaway, but ... it's going to be broadcasted across Panem. Like, _imagine_." He exhaled dreamily. "For years, all I wanted was to be a stylist. I loved Iliana, you know, but I was always a bit jealous of her. Stylist politics when I first came into the position were extremely gendered, up until very recently. The Capitol has never been as progressive as they say."

She sighed and sat on top of her desk, crossing her arms. "I wish you could've had this dream above ground," she scoffed, and then added, "without bloodshed."

"Despite our circumstances, I've never been happier." He peered down at his jumpsuit. Bex realized then he had the sleeves folded up and he stitched some kind of neon orange fabric on the inside. "The outfit is ... boring, but us Capitol folk can make anything pop. And I _will_ make that Mockingjay shine."

Bex smacked a hand against his chest. "For your sake, I hope Katniss agrees."

Phoenix huffed and approached her door. "When I'm done talking to her, that girl will realize how lucky she is." He placed a hand on the door and muttered, " _Teenagers_."

#####  **__________________________**

In Thirteen, it was easy to let the four walls of your pod suck you in, make you feel constricted. It was easy to be sad here. Everyone in this goddamn bunker looked miserable and disinterested. Bex didn't want to be part of the crowd. She was already a killer plagued by her past demons and eyes that had looked up at her before their throats were slit. Last thing she also needed was to be depressed.

So she skipped out on dinner that evening. And she fully realized that might be seen as her slipping into a depression, but she wasn't. Bex _swore_ she was okay. She just wanted to go to bed early and start fresh the next morning. Sitting in a large cafeteria with a bunch of dejected-looking people sounded like a nightmare. The fewer people she was around, the better.

But then she got hungry.

She wasn't sure what time she woke up, but Bex was acutely aware it was some time in the early hours of the night. Probably around eight PM. When she gave in to her hunger and decided to sneak down to the cafeteria, she noticed no one was out wandering the halls. Thirteen must have a strict curfew in place, which she was most definitely going to break just to get an apple.

She assumed the mess hall was somewhere on the bottom floor. It took almost ten minutes to descend the staircase, and once she was at the bottom, in the center of the bunker, she looked up. Bex admired the intricacy of all of the floors, wondering if someone was secretly watching her right now. She was wearing nothing but a thermal nightgown, but hunger couldn't wait for her to try on a new outfit.

Looking ahead, Bex found a hallway that led right to the cafeteria. Long tables were situated around the room with a large, holographic TV set in the middle. To the left was a window where food was served from the kitchens. Bex headed in that direction, intent on finding her apple. Luckily for her, there was a bowl full of fresh ones sitting on the counter, just waiting for her to take. Bex licked her lips and plucked one for the bowl. Her stomach growled, urging her to take more. After pilfering through the back pantry, she found a small jar of homemade almond butter, and then began her trip back.

Bex kept looking over her shoulder as she sprinted from the kitchens and back to the stairs. She didn't take another moment to appreciate the bunker. She just ran as fast as she could, eager to not get caught. Her feet didn't trip, not once. You could probably imagine her surprise when she managed to get back in her room in just about four minutes without being noticed. Bex shut the door immediately and pressed her back to it, holding her apple and almond butter against her chest. Sweat was running down the length of her spine.

With an audible sigh, she climbed up on her bed with her food. She turned on her TV while diving a finger into the almond butter and licking the salty goodness. The projection showed a fluffy-haired Capitol woman reporting the weather for the week. Bex didn't pay her any mind as she tore through the apple, slabbing almond butter on every so often. She just needed some background noise.

Minutes later, there was nothing left of the apple but the sad excuse of a core. Bex finally looked back up at the TV projection as she spread more almond butter on her tongue, just in time to see the image change. The Capitol weather-woman was replaced by a stunning view of Snow's mansion, and then text that said, _A Message from President Snow_.

Bex stopped eating and sat up.

A camera zoomed in on his face then, catching every wrinkle, every smirk. Her insides twisted together.

"Citizens," he cleared his throat, "tonight I address all of Panem as one."

Bex stood from her bed and approached the TV with a narrowed gaze.

"Since the Dark Days, Panem has had an unprecedented era of peace," Snow spoke. Bex wanted to laugh at that statement, but she was too busy studying every word. "It is a peace built upon cooperation and a respect for law and order. For the past weeks, you've heard of sporadic violence following the actions of a few ... _radicals_ in the Quarter Quell."

" _Radicals_?!" She whispered loudly, waving her injured hand in front of the projection. She dug her nails into her other palm. "That wouldn't have happened if _you_ hadn't put us back in the arena!"

Snow's lips curled as if he could hear her. "Those who choose this destructive path, your actions are based on a misunderstanding of how we have survived. _Together._ It is a contract. Each District supplies the Capitol, like blood to a heart. In return, the Capitol provides order and security. To refuse work is to put the entire system in danger. The Capitol is the beating heart of Panem. _Nothing_ can survive without a heart."

Bex's expression softened as she remembered Iliana. But her nails continued to dig deeper, creating more than just crescent marks on her palm.

"Criminals across the Districts are using symbols for the purpose of sedition. Which is why all images of the mockingjay are now forbidden. Possessing them will be considered treason. Punishable by death. Justice shall be served swiftly."

Her haunted, black irises went wide.

"Order shall be restored. To those who ignore the warnings of history ..." He paused, mouth showing a hint of a smirk. "Prepare to pay the ultimate price. Have a goodnight."

Snow's aged face was replaced just as swiftly again. The Capitol news anchor returned to the projection, giggling along with her co-host, batting her feather lashes. "And that was a message from our good leader, President Snow," she exclaimed. "Fantastic speech, don't you think?"

When Bex looked back down at her left hand, she realized how deep her nails had gone. Blood trickled down from the moon-shaped dents, staining her pristine white socks. Bex swallowed hard. She remembered the last time her hand looked like this – when she had been holding the white rose too tight at the Tribute Parade, when Snow couldn't keep his stare off her. Like he already knew the real purposes of the white roses on Iliana's gown.

She didn't get any sleep for the rest of the night.


	38. BAD FIRST DAY

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

#####  **__________________________**

** WHETHER ** it was exhaustion or her own stupidity, Bex's first day of chores didn't go so well.

She had woken up that morning with a splitting headache and bags under her eyes so heavy that they felt like weights. A stamping tool sat on her bedside table, and once pressed to the underside of her arm, her schedule was revealed. She was working in the hospital all day. After pulling on the same grey jumpsuit as the day prior, she headed down to the cafeteria.

Besides the frown the woman gave her while handing Bex a tray of bland oatmeal, it didn't seem like anyone knew about her heist last night. No one looked in her direction, not even the people that once marveled at her Victor status. President Coin must've enforced this. Bex scanned the room while eating her oatmeal, recognizing the familiar despair on everyone's faces. She wondered if anyone else saw Snow's broadcast last night, if they understood the implications it held. Having Katniss as the face of their revolution just became more important than ever.

Bex looked down at her hand, where the red marks were still healing. All revolutions came with the cost of pent-up trauma.

After breakfast, she headed down to the hospital wing. It felt weird to be walking through these halls looking like everyone else and not in a patient gown that showed almost all of her backside. When she arrived, she was greeted by the head doctor and assigned to a nurse. Her name badge called her,  _ Zoë _ , and she walked with Bex through the crowded hallways as teenaged caretakers scuttled around them. "You won't be doing anything major for the next couple of weeks here," she explained. "You have no medical background, right?"

"Besides wrapping a torn piece of clothing around a wound and hoping it heals, no," Bex joked, but Zoë didn't find it funny at all. She continued with the tour and Bex decided it was best not to joke about her experience in the Games again. Did no one understand that sometimes the only way to cope with trauma was to make fun of it?

Bex was entrusted with simple tasks, like giving assigned medication to patients or helping with bandaging. She couldn't even do that well. It took her almost thirty minutes to put a splint on an injured soldier because she couldn't find the supply of them in the backroom. It was also a little difficult to put on when she was currently wearing a splint, constricting all movement on her right wrist and hand. She also managed to walk in on a doctor conducting surgery –  _ twice _ . Lest we forget that she mistakenly switched two patients' medication. Lucky for her, they were pretty similar prescriptions and the patients were unharmed. That didn't make her feel any less guilty.

She wasn't cut out for this chore, and being around all this blood ... her mind was in a frenzy. It felt like she was in the Games all over again. When she had walked in on the first surgery, she could've sworn she was back in the Remake Center, watching the Capitol assistants making a tribute look absolutely perfect. Bex had been carrying multiple rolls of bandages, and they all fell from her arms as her mind was transported to another place, far away from Thirteen. It took all but Zoë pulling her out to bring her back to reality.

Bex blew out a defeated sigh and sat down beside a bandage rack. She softly pressed her back against the wall, ignoring the twist of pain, and pulled her knees to her chest. A pair of boots stopped in front of her, one foot tapping against the floor. Bex looked up and met Johanna's wide-set eyes. Her lips curled as she asked, "Bad first day, huh?"

Bex rolled her eyes. "You think?"

"Actually,  _ I saw _ ," Johanna replied, crouching down to her level. "Watching the cameras, remember?"

The older Victor frowned. "I'm not cut out for this," she exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "I don't know. I just can't focus. I've been having nightmares since I came here ..." She turned back to Johanna. "I want to leave."

"We  _ all _ want to leave, Bex." Johanna arched a brow. "We just have to make due right now. Maybe you should go rest before dinner."

"The workday isn't even over," Bex reminded, "and you're  _ not  _ my boss. I'll get in trouble with my nurse."

Johanna's lips spread into a cat-like grin. "I'll cover for you."

Bex cocked her head to the side, not believing it. Her eyes squinted at the corners.

"C'mon,  _ go _ ," she said, gesturing with her hand, "before I change my mind. I have a reputation to uphold."

Finally, Bex got to her feet, and Johanna followed suit, arms crossed over her chest. "Well," Bex said as she began to walk away, "never thought I'd see the day that Johanna Mason became nice."

"Don't get used to it," she snarled, watching Bex near the exit. "And here's hoping you're not assigned back  _ here  _ again!"

#####  **__________________________**

Bex rested for a few hours, until she woke to the alarms signaling the end of the workday. For the first time since she arrived at Thirteen, she didn't dream of Snow's vicious grin or Nico drowning, or even her brother, locked up inside the Capitol. She wondered when she would stop feeling so haunted by things out of her control.

Probably never.

She sat beside Phoenix in the mess hall that evening, swirling a spoon around the stew that was placed on her tray. With a crinkled brow, Bex tried to figure out what kind of meat was in her bowl. Phoenix, however, seemed to be ignoring his dinner all together, fiddling through Cinna's old sketches of an outfit for Katniss. Effie had just handed them over to him. Bex thought it was a little immoral that they were already discussing outfits when Katniss hadn't even agreed yet to be the face of the rebellion, but it was none of her business.

Looking up, Bex met Finnick's longing stare from across the room. He was sitting on the other side with Johanna. It looked like she was complaining about something that happened in the hospital today, but Finnick's mind remained elsewhere. Once their eyes connected, though, he looked away. He gave all his attention to Johanna once again and Bex sighed in defeat, continuing to inspect her stew.

"What's going on there?"

Bex lifted her head again. Phoenix was pointing his spoon in the direction of Finnick and Johanna.

"Don't be so obvious!" She protested, shoving his hand down.

"It was just a  _ question _ ." He viewed back down at the folder in front of him. "I thought you two were ...?"

"We  _ are _ , but ..." Her voice trailed off and she stopped her spoon, allowing it to clatter against the bowl. "We're both ... a little traumatized. And for me, personally ... I'm just not in the right headspace. I have so much to worry about."

Phoenix chuckled, "You should probably tell that to him. He won't stop staring at you."

Bex knitted her brow together and turned back to Finnick's table. Like Phoenix said, he was certainly staring at her again. Instead of looking away, he smiled at her this time, flashing his perfect teeth. Bex only lifted one corner of her mouth before turning back to Phoenix.

"I'll talk to him soon," she said. Phoenix sent her a knowing glance. "I'm serious. Promise."

The Panem anthem began playing on the TV. Everyone spun towards it as the projection fizzled to reveal the symbol of Panem, and then Caesar Flickerman's grave expression. This was the first time she ever saw him without a smile. It was a little rattling to simply witness it on a projection. No one turned away from the TV though, eyes locked on Caesar's sour frown.

"Hello, good evening, and a big welcome to all in Panem," he said. "I'm Caesar Flickerman. And whoever you are, whatever it is you're doing – if you're working, put down your work. If you're having dinner, stop having dinner. Because you are going to want to witness  _ this  _ tonight."

From across the cafeteria, Bex noticed Katniss' eyes narrowing. She sat next to her best friend from Twelve, Gale. They looked so identical, almost like cousins.

"There's been rapid speculation about what  _ really  _ happened in the Quarter Quell," Caesar continued, "and here to shed a little light on the subject for us is a very special guest. Please welcome, Mr. Peeta Mellark."

Katniss gasped and stood from her chair.

On the projection, Peeta bowed his head. He was wearing a pristine white suit, looking pure and angelic.

Caesar cleared his throat, "Peeta, a lot of people feel as though ... they are in the dark."

"Yeah, yeah," Peeta nodded, "I know how they feel."

"Now, set the stage for us. Talk us through what really happened on that final and controversial night."

Peeta's pursed his lips. "Well, first off, you have to understand that when you're in the Games ... you only get one wish. It's very costly."

"It costs your life," Caesar clarified.

"I think it costs more than your life."

"How do you mean? What's more than your life?"

Bex's jaw clenched. Caesar was almost playing Peeta like a fiddle, and it pained her to see him being used like this. And yet ... if Peeta was alive and still in the Capitol's hands, that meant Keaton could be too.

Her heart suddenly swelled with hope.

"To murder innocent people," Peeta said, "that ... that costs  _ everything _ . Everything you are. So you hold onto that one wish. That night ... my wish was to save Katniss. I should've just run off with her earlier in the day, like she wanted."

Caesar added, "But you  _ didn't _ . Why? Were you caught up in Beetee's plan?"

Peeta rolled his eyes. "No, no, I was caught up in trying to play allies. And they separated us ... that's when I lost her. And then, the lightning hit, and the whole forcefield around the arena just blew out."

Katniss walked from her table and approached the TV. It looked like it was taking everything in her to not cry. At that moment, it was very clear to everyone in the room how much she cared for Peeta. Their relationship wasn't as fake as they tried to make it out to be.

Bex could relate to that sentiment now. She glanced at Finnick for a split second and found him staring at the TV with an open mouth.

"Yes, but, Peeta," Caesar argued, " _ Katniss  _ is the one who blew it out. You saw the footage. The others helped her. Beetee, Finnick, Bex –"

"She didn't know what she was doing. Neither of us knew there was a bigger plan going on. We had no idea."

Caesar arched a brow. "Well, Peeta, there are many that find this  _ suspicious _ , to say the least. It seems as though she was part of a rebellion plan."

Peeta's expression twisted. He was becoming agitated. "Do you think it was part of her plan to be almost killed by Johanna?"

Bex looked over at her friend. Johanna's brows were pulled together and she puckered her lips.

"Or part of the plan to be paralyzed by lightning?" He proceeded. "No, we were not part of  _ any  _ rebel plan. We had  _ no idea  _ what was going on."

"Alright, I believe you, Peeta Mellark." Caesar held up his hands in surrender, and Peeta finally sat back in his seat, relaxed. With his hands folded in his lap, Caesar said, "I was going to ask you to speak about the unrest, but ... I think you might be too upset."

Peeta shook his head. "No, no, I can. Absolutely."

And then, his eyes were on the camera. Peeta Mellark was staring them down like a predator, and Katniss held a hand over her mouth to hide her sob.

"I want everyone who's watching," Peeta addressed, "to  _ stop _ and to  _ think  _ about what a Civil War could mean. We almost went extinct once before. And now, our names are ever fewer."

Around the room, everyone began to share a confused expression. It finally dawned on Bex why they were interviewing Peeta: they were setting him up as a traitor to the people that were rooting for him.

"Is this really what we want to do?" asked Peeta. "Kill ourselves off? Killing is not the answer. Everyone needs to lay down their weapons immediately. It needs to stop. For all of us."

"TRAITOR!" Someone in the cafeteria yelled.

Bex's stare was still pinned to the TV as Caesar asked, "Peeta, are you calling for a ceasefire?"

"Yeah," the teenaged boy replied, "I am."

The screams in the room only got worse. People began to throw their trays at the projection, but it simply passed through the image. Katniss looked around the room with tears in her eyes, and not even Gale's hand on her shoulder could comfort her. Bex watched her shove through the crowd of people and run out of the mess hall, just as the Panem anthem began to play again.

She didn't know what came over her, but Bex stood from her seat and followed the young girl out the exit.

Katniss was leaning against a wall, arms wrapped around her tiny form. She was shaking, sobs wracked her body, and Bex approached her slowly. When Katniss finally lifted her head, their eyes met, and Bex realized how her grey eyes looked so similar to cold steel, like a blade. With one hand held out, she said, "Katniss, I know you're upset. But this isn't your fault –"

"It's not just  _ that _ ," Katniss complained, wiping at her eyes. "There can't be a ceasefire. Not after everything Snow's done."

Bex pursed her lips, but didn't respond. She couldn't think of anything to encourage Katniss. She might be older, but not very wiser.

"And Peeta just looked so ... not like himself. Even scared," Katniss continued. She rubbed at the bridge of her nose and frowned. "Why would he ask for a ceasefire?"

Bex walked forward, determination in her eyes. "He could've made a deal to protect you. Peeta wouldn't openly betray you like that." Katniss swung to her once again. "He's still playing the Game, Katniss. It doesn't end."

Eventually, Katniss nodded and turned away again. Bex walked around the teenager and stood on her right, back softly hitting the wall. She still winced a bit at the impact, but she had become accustomed to the pain now. Katniss sniffled for a few more minutes before gathering herself together. She wiped at the edges of her eyes and looked to her feet.

"I don't get it," she whispered. "After everything I said to you in the arena, why are you here? I'm not very good at making friends."

Bex's stare flickered over at her. "I don't quite understand it myself," she chuckled dryly. "Maybe I think we're just a bit too similar. More than we both realize. We were thrust into a life we didn't want."

Katniss paused, but the words still hung off the tip of her tongue. She lifted her head and looked to Bex, one brow arched. "What do you think I should do?"

"About what?"

"Being their Mockingjay. The rebel leader." Her eyes were pleading for answers, and Bex was baffled at the sincerity. "Nobody hates the Capitol more than me and I  _ want _ to help. But I just keep thinking ... even if we win this war, what happens to Peeta? He's not safe anywhere.  _ We're _ not safe anywhere, not while Snow's still in power."

She had a point there. This rebellion meant nothing until Snow was kicked out of the presidency ... or killed, but even that sounded like such a faraway dream. Bex couldn't see Coin allowing anyone to leave Thirteen and assassinate Snow, not when they had so much left to do. They still needed more people on their side. They needed every District to stand up against the Capitol.

Bex exhaled heavily. "You know, Katniss, when I first saw you during your Victory Tour, I didn't understand what all the fuss was about. Sure, you won the Games and both you and Peeta somehow managed to get out unscathed, but I still didn't get it." Her face relaxed as she remembered Katniss and Peeta's visit to Seven, the way they read their speeches in the least enthusiastic way possible. She shook her head and glanced back at Katniss. "I understand now. You're the only person the Capitol is afraid of. I don't think you know how important you are to this rebellion."

Katniss rolled her eyes. "My face is only important."

"Yeah, and  _ so what _ ? I know President Coin would do anything to get that face in her propos." She hesitated before placing a hand on Katniss' shoulder. "I know you're worried about Peeta. My brother is there too, and I can hardly sleep at night. Whoever is captured right now, they're not safe anywhere, like you said. But they're also a lot safer in this bunker than in the Capitol. I hate this place more than anyone, but they need to be rescued.  _ Now _ . And I think you're the only one who can demand that."

"As long as I appear in their propos," the younger girl sighed.

Bex nodded.

"Alright," she said, looking to Bex inquisitively. "Thanks."

Katniss began to walk towards the massive elevator before Bex could respond. After just a few steps, she did end up turning around, arms crossed over her chest. "I'm going to demand they rescue Peeta," she said confidently, " _ and  _ your brother. Whoever is there. And to have them pardoned. I'll make it happen."


	39. THE DEAL

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

#####  **__________________________**

** BEX ** had never felt more thankful than when she received a chore assignment change.

As she pressed the stamp into her arm and peered down at her tattooed schedule, she released a sigh of relief. She was to report to the kitchens this afternoon to cook and serve the evening meal. This had to be the best news she'd gotten since she woke up here. Not even discovering she was alive was more relieving than finding out she wouldn't have to step foot in that hospital for a considerable amount of time.

The head chef asked her to make a simple tomato soup to be served as a side dish with today's dinner. Pretty easy task, but that didn't mean the soup was edible. Bex had never been that great of a cook. Keaton did a lot of cooking over the past few years. She knew how to make a good sandwich, fry up some bacon, concoct her legendary beef stew, even how to cook a meaty slab of chicken, but this soup was  _ definitely _ not the best.

As Bex stood over the bubbling pot, sweat pouring down her forehead, she wondered if she could do anything right besides handle an axe. Or kill people.

_ Stop being so negative _ , she told herself. At the very least, today's shift in the kitchen went a lot better than the disaster at the hospital yesterday. She also felt like she was doing something worthwhile whenever she handed someone a tray of food and they smiled at her. And it was always genuine. These people were just thankful to be alive every single day. She needed to start having the same attitude.

This was, probably, the best distraction from her own worry. While serving food that evening, she wondered why she was ever anxious at all.

Most of the staff waved goodbye to her as she began storing the rest of her soup in containers. After serving dinner, all of the staff got together in the kitchen and ate their meals together or packed it up to have in their pod. Bex kept one tub of soup and another container of spiced chicken on the side for herself. The rest went into the freezer for storage. Nothing was taken for granted around here. Not even barely-edible soup.

A fist knocked on the doorframe to the kitchen. The last person Bex expected to see when she lifted her head was Finnick. But there he was, messy hair and all. He strode in and scanned the kitchen, taking in the large fridge and multiple stovetops. "Hi," Bex said awkwardly, going back to her duties. She continued dipping her ladle into the pot and filling the large container in her other hand, only catching Finnick's smile from the corner of her eye. Anyone could spot his pearly whites, even from a mile away. His grin seemed truly unfeigned. He was happier than the last time she saw him.

"Where have you been all day?" He asked, approaching the steel table in the middle of the room. Bex got goosebumps just from his closeness and he was  _ only _ on the other side. Eight feet separated them, but it felt like it was hardly there.

"I tried sleeping in after I got my schedule because  _ clearly _ , I can't sleep until the sun rises. Then, I came here." She shrugged and submerged her ladle into the soup yet again. "The kitchen can get muggy after a while."

"They assigned me to the hospital with Johanna." He looked down at her almost-full container. "Are you sure you want to make people eat that again?"

Bex grimaced, " _ Funny _ ."

Finnick rounded the table, dragging the tip of his finger across the surface. Bex swallowed hard the closer he got, but refused to meet his eyes.

"You are a lot of things, Bex Nassar," he said, dipping one finger into the cold soup and frowning, "but a chef is not one of them."

She turned to him finally, drinking in his stare, reminding herself –  _ again  _ – how beautiful he truly was. With one hand on her hip, Bex struggled to maintain the same annoyed expression. "Alright, enough with the jabs. I know I'm not great, but my first day at the hospital was bad. I'd rather be here than  _ anywhere _ else."

"Are you irritated with me?" To her surprise, he jumped up on the counter, allowing his legs to dangle off the side. "You sound irritated."

"It's because you're  _ distracting  _ me." She finished piling the soup in and sealed the container. Sending Finnick a scowl, she passed him and placed the container in the fridge. "I just want to get out of here, eat my dinner, and try to go to bed at a decent time."

She turned just as a cloud of flour flew in her direction, coating her face and neck. Bex's mouth fell. She wiped her eyes and found Finnick just a few feet away, a bag of flour in hand. "Are you  _ serious _ ?"

He giggled, "Whoops."

Bex came barreling over before he could move away. She dug her hands into the flour and slapped the fistfuls against his cheeks. She backed away, unable to contain her laughter, as Finnick grabbed more flour. He threw balls of it at her. She tried shielding herself against his attacks with her arms, and soon grabbed more to throw at him. Within minutes, the two were covered head-to-toe in the dusty powder. Bex doubled-over from laughing so much and then called for a draw. "We're wasting too much flour!" She complained. "My boss will  _ kill me _ ."

"I highly doubt you'd give him the chance," Finnick said as she sealed the bag. He stepped in front of her, cornering her against the counter. His lips pulled into a smirk, dimples on full display.

Bex froze completely, allowing him to press his body against hers. His scent never ceased to invite her in. His body was always so warm, and it welcomed her like an old friend. She closed her eyes as his hands caressed her cheeks, wiping the flour off. His mouth was grazing hers seconds later, and she breathed him in. The cool, ocean air radiated off of him, as if he was made from the salty waters of District Four.

The citrus and saltwater fragrance drew her in, but it didn't take long for her mind to go elsewhere. Memories of the arena flickered through her mind. She remembered Nico jumping in front of Katniss, and then his gaping mouth as he sunk to the ocean floor, water filling his lungs.

Suddenly, Bex moved away. Finnick's mouth was now brushing against her cheek, where he placed a gentle kiss. He leaned away, brows knitting together in confusion, and Bex reached up to stroke his cheek for a brief moment. She slid from his hold and went to the sink to wash the flour off her hands and face.

Finnick grabbed a towel and wiped his face. In the softest voice possible, he said, "We're really not going to talk about it?"

She didn't look at him. She lathered her hands like nothing was wrong. "About what?"

"You know what." He paused, waiting for her to reply. Bex didn't make it that easy for him. He continued, "What we said in the arena."

Bex sighed, wringing her hands and wiping them off with a towel. Finally, she met his eyes with a frown. "We said many things in the arena."

"Nothing I didn't mean." He licked the corners of his mouth. "Nothing you didn't mean either."

"I was dehydrated and hallucinating."

"You kissed me in my hospital room."

" _ This _ started out as fake."

Finnick held up a finger. " _ Actually _ , it started out as real. I meant what I said in the Quell, about caring for you when I visited Seven. Why would I travel all that way, break the law, if I didn't?"

Bex pursed her lips. Words hung off the edge of her tongue, threatening to spill out.

"Listen, I get it," he exhaled. "We're both dealing with a lot right now, but I don't want to live through it without  _ you _ ."

Her nostrils flared. A frantic, uncontrollable fury shot through her, exploding like a cannon. " _ No _ , this is  _ different _ . You  _ don't _ get it.  _ My brother  _ is in the Capitol right now –"

"You think I'm not hurting too? Do you  _ seriously  _ think that?"

Silence echoed between them. Bex didn't know what to say; she knew he was right. It was difficult for her to remember that everyone was going through a tough time when she didn't know if Keaton was alive or dead. After a beat of hesitation, she looked down and grabbed his hand. His large fingers interlocked with her own so perfectly. She sometimes couldn't believe it.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I've never been too good at apologies."

Finnick rubbed at the back of his neck. "No, I'm sorr –"

Bex chuckled, "I think you've apologized enough to me. But I appreciate it."

They broke eye contact to look around the room. Flour coated the walls and was piled all over the table, not to mention their clothes were completely covered in it. Bex's stare went wide for a moment.

"And  _ now _ , I have to clean all this up." She turned to Finnick with an arched brow. "Help me?"

His smile was so pretty that her heart ached. "There's nothing else I'd rather do."

#####  **__________________________**

Bex was heading down to her afternoon shift in the kitchens when everyone was called to congregate in the center of the bunker. President Coin stood on top of a metal platform, pacing and waiting impatiently to give a speech. Bex moved swiftly through the crowd and found Phoenix with Effie Trinket near the middle. She stood with them and scanned the large group. Katniss was closer to the front with her mom and sister, and behind Bex's shoulder, she spotted Johanna and Finnick in their hospital gear. Finnick smiled at her just as she turned around.

Once the crowd came to an abrupt stop, Coin faced them and adjusted her mic. Bex swallowed hard at her blank expression. Whatever she was about to say was either good or bad news. No in-between.

"Good afternoon. Thank you for interrupting your schedules," she began, mouth in a thin line. "Today, I'd like to inform the citizens of Thirteen and our welcomed guests that Katniss Everdeen has consented to be the face of our cause. To help unite the Districts against the Capitol."

Bex tried lifting her head over the crowd. She could just see a sliver of Katniss looking down at her feet, refusing to look at Coin.

"In exchange," the President continued, and a sigh quickly escaped her lips, "I have promised several concessions." She raised her hands, where a torn piece of paper resided. She began to read off the demands. "First, we will assess all opportunities for the extraction of the Victors and familial prisoners held hostage in the Capitol."

At that, Bex found her eyebrows shooting up.

"Peeta Mellark," Coin listed, which earned an intense round of boos. The people were very obviously not happy with that decision, but Coin completely ignore their complaints and proceeded with her speech. "Enobaria Marshall, and Keaton Nassar."

Bex cupped one hand over her mouth, almost not believing the news. Katniss did it. She  _ really _ did it. She made the deal to save everyone, including her brother. Looking out amongst the crowd, Bex's stare met hers, and the Mockingjay smiled. For the first time, her grey eyes weren't cold. They reminded Bex of the warm lake she used to take a bath in as a kid.

On her left, Phoenix wrapped his arm around Bex and squeezed her. Bex rested her head on his shoulder and hoped no one was paying attention to the hot tears rolling down her face.

Effie Trinket leaned her head forward and said, "Congratulations," with flushed cheeks.

Coin waited for silence. A moment later, she said, "Once freed, they will be granted full pardon for any and all crimes committed against the rebel cause."

The booing started all over again. Coin's expression went grim, as if she was giving up one of her children right now, in front of everyone. She wasn't upset that her people didn't like her decisions. She was upset that she was letting a teenager  _ influence  _ her decisions, just to have her be the face of their cause. Bex was sure she saw a flash of jealousy cross over Coin's face, like she was envious that Katniss had a small amount of power she didn't.

Coin looked down, peering into the crowd and finding Katniss amongst the lot. She set the paper down and spoke only to her. "If Katniss fails to fulfill her duties, the deal will be over."

And once again, the survival of Bex's family rested on the shoulders of Katniss Everdeen. She could only hope the girl wouldn't let her stubbornness cloud her judgment until the prisoners were rescued. That was truly asking for a miracle.

But a miracle was what Keaton needed right now.


	40. ANNIE CRESTA

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER FORTY

#####  **__________________________**

** HER ** schedule requested she visit the hospital level as soon as she woke. Bex's anxiety flared for a mere moment, wondering if she was required to work in that dreaded place again, but she was scheduled in the kitchens for the rest of the day.

Bex looked down at her hand splint with a smile. She had to be getting it off today. Finally, she'd be able to crack her knuckles in peace.

After dressing in the same old jumpsuit, same old thermal underwear underneath, Bex headed downstairs to the hospital. She was asked to sit on a cot in the middle of a busy hallway. She waited patiently for ten minutes, continuously glancing at the clock. A nurse eventually came over and explained all the precautions Bex needed to take as she unwrapped the splint. Bex nodded, but hardly regarded her words. She was just glad to have her dominant hand free again. Her smile towards the nurse was radiant and she exited the hospital with a huge pep in her step.

Despite the nurse advising not to, the first thing Bex did once she was riding up the elevator was crack her knuckles. Nothing was more satisfying than freedom. Hopefully, she could get more than just a taste of it soon.

She slept for a few more hours before venturing to the kitchens. If there was one thing Bex liked about serving the dinner crowd, it was that she could sleep later. She hadn't been exaggerating when she told Finnick she could hardly sleep well until the sun rose. She found herself staying up, eyes wide awake at midnight, and then tossed and turned until the clock struck five AM. Bex was too scared to dream, and yet, she didn't mind being plagued by nightmares just to sleep. It was so tiring, but she'd gotten used to shrugging it off.

As she entered the kitchen, Bex found herself almost bodychecking another staff member with a tray of dough, heading for the stove in front of them. " _ Gods _ ," Bex exclaimed, meeting the girl's ocean blue eyes. She took a step back and settled her hands on the sides of the tray. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to –"

"It's – um –" She adjusted her grip again and opened the oven, placing the tray inside. "It's okay. I'm really not supposed to be in here anyway. I serve breakfast, but I wanted to put these rolls in the oven to save you dinner folk from some extra work."

Bex raised a brow, studying the girl as she dusted flour off her apron. In just a few seconds, she could already tell this girl was one of the most selfless people in Thirteen. Her kind smile and meek voice said it all. Her hair was a fiery red, unlike her gentle personality. Bex thought her eye color was similar to Finnick's, although his were more seafoam green.

The girl threw her apron off and handed it over to Bex, who took it after a moment of hesitation. "I'm Annie Cresta. It's nice to meet you. You're Bex Nassar?"

Bex shook her hand and quipped, "Just Bex."

Annie smiled shyly and strode over to the sink. She began to clean some of the leftover dishes as the rest of the breakfast staff left. Something about her seemed so on edge. Her whole body shook slightly, even just being across the room from Bex.

_ Annie Cresta. _ This had to be  _ Finnick's  _ Annie. The one he could never love. It dawned on her then: this was the same girl Mags volunteered for at the Reaping. She had died for Annie, and that was something the young girl now had to live with, as well as intense anxiety that clung to her back every day. The Games destroyed her. Bex could relate to that feeling all too well.

She should be at meetings with the other Victors, but Bex could tell from the obvious fear in her eyes that maybe keeping her in the dark was the best decision. Anything could set off her distress, and she definitely had a lot of it. More than Bex, even Katniss.

Bex slowly approached her from behind, careful to make sure Annie heard her coming. She stood on one side of the sink with her hand bracing the edge. "You're from District Four, right?" She asked inquisitively. Bex hoped her voice sounded as soft as she aimed it to be.

Annie looked up and turned to Bex, who had one brow arched. She paused before nodding her head, "Mm-hmm."

"I've always wanted to go," Bex said. She'd never been good at small-talk. "And you know Finnick, yeah? He mentored you?"

Annie hesitated, almost dropping the slippery dish in her hands, but she recovered and placed it out to dry. She, again, nodded her head at Bex's question, hardly saying a word.

"Finnick's told me a lot about you." At that, Annie glanced at her with wide eyes. Bex held her hands up in surrender. "All good things. I'm glad they were able to get you out of Four in time."

Annie's lips pulled at the corners and revealed her dimples. "Me too," she murmured, finally opening up. "Who else would cook blueberry pancakes every day? I have a special recipe from back home."

Bex laughed and nudged her softly. "Maybe you can give me some cooking tips sometime? I'm not the best –"

"I know," Annie interrupted while drying off her hands. She smiled and placed a few fingers in front of her mouth, ashamed. "Sorry."

"None taken," Bex chuckled again.

Setting the hand towel on the side of the sink, Annie silently debated her offer. A moment later, she replied, "Cooking tips sounds like a fun idea, though. How about sometime this week after my morning shift?"

"That requires me to get up earlier, but ..." Bex grinned. "I'd like that."

As she turned her head, Bex spotted a man tip-toeing into the kitchen and approaching Annie from behind. Her brow knitted together as he put a finger to his lips. Suddenly, he reached for Annie's waist and tugged her to his chest, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Annie jumped, as if she'd seen a ghost, and turned to the man with wide, blue eyes. For a mere moment, she had never looked so scared, and Bex was ready to jump in between them. But then, Annie's stare softened and she smiled at the man with such warmth that Bex wondered if she were made of pure sunshine.

"Oh," Annie sighed, "it's just you."

The man was at least a foot taller than Annie's frame. His skin was the color of dusky sepia, while his eyes reminded Bex of chestnut wood. He had perfectly straight, white teeth, and he looked at Annie with the kind of tenderness you only saw once in a while.

He squeezed Annie's shoulders. "Are you off your shift?"

"Yes, I was just chatting," Annie replied, looking over to Bex. The man followed her stare and blinked, studying the other Victor carefully.

"You're Bex Nassar, right?" He held out his large hand. "I'm Kai Seaton."

"My fiancé," Annie clarified.

Bex shook his hand and nodded. She attempted to hide the surprise from her face, but it was hard. She didn't expect someone as shaken as Annie to fall in love. Bex understood the struggle of opening your heart. But she was happy to hear it. Escaping to Thirteen must felt a little better with someone you love by your side.

Kai sent Bex another wide, bright grin before placing his hand on Annie's waist and leading her out of the kitchen. Annie made sure to wave goodbye to Bex as they left, but the other Victor was still left with a hollow feeling in her chest. Jealousy swirled in her gut, and she silently wished she could allow herself to have what they had.

#####  **__________________________**

Bex stabbed her fork into the casserole on her plate. The head chef had seasoned it some herbs grown directly from Seven, imported before the bombings. It reminded her of home, of her mother's cooking. Whatever meat was inside her slice, though, wasn't doing it any favors. Bex suspected it was pork, but you could never be too sure around here. They had to make do with the scraps they had in Thirteen.

The rest of the staff had finished cleaning up early. They quickly took their plates of casserole and sat together in the mess hall once it was empty. Bex didn't talk with them very much, so she preferred to eat her dinner alone, in the kitchen, welcoming the silence. The cafeteria got so noisy while they were serving, even more so when the Capitol News came on the TV. The citizens of Thirteen could be exceptionally rowdy when they wanted to be.

She inspected another slice of casserole on her fork before placing it on the tip of her tongue and chewing. There was definitely chive in here. It spiced up the mashed potatoes mixed in with the meat. Bex remembered how much her mom loved chive-spiced potatoes.

A figure appeared at the doorway of the kitchen. Instead of mulling over her vanished-parents, Bex sat up and wiped at her mouth. But upon recognizing Finnick's smirk as he leaned against the doorframe, she relaxed and continued to bend over the table, fork in hand. "You should probably just ask to have your assignment shifted to the kitchen if you're gonna keep visiting," she teased.

"I happen to like my chores in the hospital," he said, walking forward with his hands behind his back.

"Can't really say the same," Bex muttered. "I didn't see you eat dinner with everyone else tonight. Where were you?"

Finnick brought his hands out, revealing the tray of lukewarm casserole. "I wanted to eat with you," he said easily. "It's a bit cold now, though. I didn't really think this one through."

Bex slowly took the fork out of her mouth, confusion written over her face. She could tell Finnick was trying not to notice, attempting to keep the mood casual, but his devotion was anything but that. He sat down next to her with a huff. The legs scraped against the floor, but neither of them flinched. Bex kept her head down and tried to hide her smile.

They ate together in silence. But it wasn't exactly awkward. Just a week ago, she could hardly look him in the eye, and now, she was at peace with the presence of someone else being so close. Maybe it was because of her talk with him a few days prior. Who knew a flour fight could bring two stubborn souls together?

Cutting a slice off her square of casserole, Bex lifted her head at the same time he did. Once their eyes met, she knew she had to say something. She would look stupid otherwise.

"I met Annie today," she blurted. "She works the breakfast shift. I never even noticed her in the back kitchen while people served us. She agreed to give me cooking tips. Maybe now I can up my game."

Bex chuckled to relieve the tension, but Finnick had already gone stiff. He froze for a mere moment, fork plunged into the casserole, before he attempted to resume his normal behavior like nothing was wrong. Bex cursed herself for not thinking before talking. She was usually so good about that, but since the Quell ... she had felt so off.

She cracked her knuckles against better judgment.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned that –"

"Why should you be sorry?" He blinked twice. "Nothing's wrong."

Bex narrowed her eyes, studying him. Words came tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"Are you nervous to talk about her because of your history?"

Finnick ate a forkful of casserole, chewed quickly, and then flickered his gaze to her. "It's all in the past."

She raised a brow. "Then why are you nervous?"

He continued to stab his utensil into his meal. Bex swallowed hard when she thought how similar this looked to how he used his trident in the arena.

"Because opening up your heart is a tough thing to do, Bex. And it's a hard thing to forget." He paused. She noticed his grip go tight. "I'm sure you know how hard that is too."

Bex's mouth formed into a thin line. She didn't like that he was projecting himself onto her, but she decided that was an argument for another day. Instead, she placed her hand on top of his left. "I think you should talk to her," she advised. "You're both past Victors and you're from the same District. You need to let go of whatever is keeping you up at night."

"What about you?" He asked, lifting his head, yet still refusing to meet her dark stare. "Are you going to let go of what's keeping  _ you _ up at night?"

She frowned. "This isn't about me."

"But are you?"

"Keaton's survival is what's keeping me up at night." Her brow pulled together in opposition. "So  _ no _ , I can't let go of that until he's rescued."

Finnick didn't respond. He cut through his casserole with the tip of his fork, eyeing the chunky texture before giving up entirely. He wasn't sure if he could stomach it any longer, or maybe it was his nerves telling him that she was right.

Bex decided then that it was time to be honest. Her expression relaxed.

"And sometimes you," she breathed. Finnick instantly turned to her, a glint of hope in his oceanic irises. "Sometimes I think and dream of you. Even when I shouldn't."

His fingers laced with her hand and squeezed gently.

"We're on the brink of a full-fledged war, though," she whispered, looking away. "I fear the thought of ... falling completely in love with you, because I know how easy it would be. I don't want them to take you too."

"I get it –"

"Yes, but this is still different." She sobbed and wiped away her tears immediately, refusing to let them grace her cheeks. "I've been hurt  _ so much _ , Finnick. For a Victor that was supposed to be one of Snow's favorites, he hurt me in every way he could. The Capitol took my parents when I didn't agree with the President's agreement. They cut out the tongue of the boy I liked because I wouldn't side with the Capitol in a rebellion. They captured my brother when I was rescued. They just keep taking and  _ taking _ –"

Finnick pushed his chair out from underneath him and stood, wrapping his arms around her without delay. Bex didn't freeze at his touch. In fact, she didn't hesitate to hold him back, pressing her face into his shirt. She was reminded of the way he held her in Seven again, but this embrace was more desperate, full of anguish. Their fragile hearts were wretchedly clinging to each other, never wanting to be apart. Bex's tears stained his shirt as he placed his chin on top of her hair.

"When this is all over," he whispered, "when the Games are over, I'm going to take you to Four and I'm going to hold you on the beach, just like this. I want you to be as at peace with me as I am with you. Because when I'm near you, I forget about all my fears. I forget about Snow and what he could do to us. And I want you to be as comfortable with loving me as I am with you."

Bex sniffled, nodding against his shirt. She eventually leaned back to look up at him, to see the torment and agony in his pretty eyes. She rubbed at her own and nodded again, smoothing out the wrinkles she made in her shirt.

Finnick closed the distance between them, but not in a way she expected. Sensing her apprehension, he placed a chaste kiss to her forehead, one that Bex reveled in and had her hands fisted into his t-shirt once again. She hummed dreamily.

When he moved back and smiled down at her, Bex couldn't help how warm she felt inside. She brushed the pads of her fingers underneath her eyes and released an awkward chuckle, "I know you meant what you said, but we really diverted from the topic at hand."

He exhaled dramatically. "I was hoping you'd forget."

"Well, you were  _ wrong _ ." She released her grip and pressed her palms to his chest. "Just promise me you'll talk to Annie sometime. It'll be good for you. And if it's not, you can say, 'I told you so.' Deal?"

Bex had put out her hand for him to shake, but his own halted in the air, refusing to close the gap. "As long as you promise me that you'll let me take you to Four someday." He bobbed his head back and forth, thinking. "And if you're being kept up at night, you can visit my quarters. Room 325."

They had sealed the deal with a firm handshake, but the last thing Bex expected was to show up at his living quarters in the early hours of the morning, shaking from the nightmare she woke from. Finnick had sprinted to the door as soon as she knocked, holding it open for her. They had fallen asleep together in his bed, arms wrapped around each other like they needed the other for air. No nightmares disturbed them throughout the night, not even insomnia kept Bex awake. She dozed off to the sound of his heartbeat once again.

If only things could always be this simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter was so boring lol. But we finally got to Annie's inclusion in the story! She won't exactly be a central character, but she adds an interesting aspect to the story now that she's engaged to Kai, who is an OC I made up from District 4. They're going to be very soft and cute!


	41. GET IT ON CAMERA

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

#####  **__________________________**

**IT** was starting to become a pattern for her to slip out of Finnick's arms in the dead of night.

Bex managed to head back to her room before anyone woke – before even _he_ woke – and changed into a clean jumpsuit. She had serious bedhead from the night prior, and it took a few tugs of her hairbrush to hide the evidence. She allowed her mind to wander, picturing how her hair would've looked if they had done more than just sleep –

_Not the time_ , she reminded herself. _Not yet._

Grabbing the stamping tool on her desk, Bex pressed it into her skin and read off her schedule for today. It was all the same – evening shift in the kitchen, serving dinner – except for the new bullet point listed at the top. She was to report to a meeting in President Coin's board room that morning. No sleeping in for her today.

Scrunching her brows together, Bex headed out and took the elevator to the top floor. She walked across the beam, dragging her fingers against the railing, which led to the entrance of Coin's board room. Colonel Boggs waited by the doors and held one open for her. She sent him a tight smile and entered the meeting, taking in all the Victors that were already seated.

Katniss sat between Plutarch and Coin, looking fairly uncomfortable in an armored black outfit and smokey eye makeup. Her hair was wrapped in that famous braid, and a black tiara that looked fairly similar to the Victor crown sat on the top of her head. She had to be wearing the Mockingjay outfit from Cinna's old sketches, the ones Phoenix had shown her.

Phoenix, on the other hand, sat with Effie Trinket and looked like he was trying to tune her out as she argued with Haymitch Abernathy on the other side of the table. Beetee and Johanna leaned in their chairs near the head of the table, and Bex approached a seat beside them.

But not before someone else nudged her through the doorway.

Bex almost stumbled as Finnick smiled at her. She swallowed hard, wondering if he was angry with her for leaving, but he simply pulled a chair open for her and sat down. Her lips tugged and she plopped down into the seat.

Their relationship was so confusing. She didn't quite understand it. The second she assumed they had relieved their tension, she would start overthinking every word she said, and the tension would be there all over again. Did Finnick feel the same way? Why did she think she was always ruining things? Would Snow's influence over her ever end?

Maybe she was just the architect of her own destruction.

She wanted to feel like a person again. She wanted to allow herself to feel everything, without all the guilt and regret. When would it be _her time_?

"Thank you all for coming," Coin said, bringing Bex out of her brutal thoughts. She stood from her seat, all mighty and proud. "We've successfully created our first propaganda video with Katniss and Plutarch would like all your feedback. With Beetee's help, we're aiming to have this shown all over Panem. We need to appeal to everyone."

Coin directed a remote at the whiteboard behind their heads. Everyone turned towards the board as music started to play. It sounded almost like the Panem anthem, but something was different about it. The black screen opened up on Katniss, wearing the same outfit she was squirming in right now, standing in the middle of a battlefield, armed rebel soldiers charging all around her. She held up a large, red flag with the symbol from her mockingjay pin spray-painted on it. With a conflicted facial expression, she shouted, "People of Panem, we fight! We dare! We end this hunger _for justice_!" A booming applause erupted from the rebel soldiers, and then the image went dark.

Heads turned around the room. The Victors shared wary glances, and Katniss could only focus on her hands. The silence was almost excruciating as Coin waited for an answer. The only current sound came from Haymitch tipping back in his squeaky chair.

"Well," Johanna snorted at Katniss, "you're _certainly_ not an actress."

Finnick shook his head. "Oh, come on, Johanna. Don't be rude." He couldn't help but crack a grin. "That was pretty bad, though."

Katniss shot them a deadly glare. Bex put her hands on her friends' shoulders as a warning.

Haymitch raised a finger. "Hey, um – Madam President," he said, rising from his seat.

"Indulge me, for a moment, if you would." Haymitch moved his hands around as he spoke. "Let's all think of one incident where Katniss Everdeen _genuinely_ moved you. Not one where you were jealous of her hairstyle, or ... when her dress went up in flames, or ... she made a halfway decent shot with an arrow. And not when _Peeta_ made you like her."

Katniss' jaw was locked tight, but her steely eyes didn't raise to look at anyone, not even Haymitch.

"I like you all to think of one moment," he said, rubbing at his grey stubble, "where she made you feel something _real_."

Effie's hand immediately went up and she exclaimed, smooth as silk, "When she volunteered for her sister at the Reaping."

Finally, Katniss lifted her head and stared at Effie. Her mouth twitched into a hint of a smile.

"Excellent, Effie," he approached the whiteboard and took a pen. In his scribbly handwriting, he wrote, _Volunteer for sis._

Bex watched the way Haymitch paced around the room, how his hands said so much more than his actual words. She had always been told Haymitch Abernathy was nothing more than a drunk, a Victor so tormented by his past that the only way to drown out his memories was to drink them away. But ... he clearly wasn't drunk here. He was sober. Must be another one of Coin's rules.

Which, in this case, wasn't a bad thing, but ... the President was certainly hellbent on following a system. It reminded Bex of Snow in a way, except way less lethal.

Maybe she was giving her too much credit.

"Oh!" Effie said, shooting up her hand again. Bex blinked and brought herself back to the conversation as the former escort began flailing her hands. "When she sang that song for little Rue. So precious."

"Who didn't get choked up at that," Haymitch crooned, writing, _Song for Rue_ , on the board.

Beetee spoke, "When she chose Rue for an ally as well."

Phoenix nodded. "Agreed."

Bex sat up in her chair, surprised to find her own mouth opening, the words spilling out, "When she demanded the rescue of my brother and Peeta. I won't forget that."

Haymitch pointed in her direction with the pen and wrote down her answer. When she looked over at Katniss, the girl's stormy eyes held nothing but kindness. It was a rare sight for Katniss Everdeen.

"Now, what do all these have in common?" Haymitch asked the room.

"She went with her gut. She did what she felt was right," Finnick muttered as it dawned on him.

"Unscripted, yes," Beetee added. "So maybe we should just leave her alone."

Johanna tsked, "You should probably wash her face too. She looks middle-aged."

Effie scoffed. The smokey eyeshadow was obviously her idea.

"The opportunities for spontaneity are lacking below ground," Plutarch agreed. "So what you're suggesting is we ... toss her into combat? That sounds a little risky, don't you think?"

"I can't sanction putting an untrained civilian in battle just for effect. This is not the Capitol," Coin replied.

Bex cocked her head at that, but kept her mouth sealed.

Haymitch shook his head. "That is _exactly_ what I'm suggesting. Put her on the field."

"We can't protect her," Coin argued.

"It _has_ to come from her. That's what people respond to. You want a symbol for the revolution. She cannot be _coached_ into it. Trust me, _I've tried_."

" _Hey_ ," Katniss warned. The first word she said in minutes of silence.

Plutarch suggested, "Maybe there's some place less dangerous," and looked to Coin.

Everyone was turning to the President now, waiting for her call. Bex had to admit, sending Katniss onto a battlefield was risky, especially when she was the symbol for their cause. But she had survived two Games already. Bex was pretty sure her, out of everyone in this room, could protect herself.

Not to mention, alive or dead, she was still a symbol that would be remembered.

Bex didn't want to think about a girl so young, so plagued by trauma, dying. Not when she still had so much life yet to live.

Finally, Coin said, "We won't be able to guarantee her safety."

"You'll never be able to guarantee my safety," Katniss snapped, facing the President. "I wanna go."

"And if you're killed?"

Katniss shrugged. "Make sure you get it on camera."

Plutarch released a breathy chuckle as Coin let her head fall into her hands. The board room was engulfed in silence once again. The President rubbed at her eyes before finally scanning the room again. "Well, I guess it's settled then," she exhaled. "I'll look into which Districts aren't being heavily attacked and report back to those I want on the mission. For now," Coin faced Katniss, deadpanned, "stay alive."

#####  **__________________________**

The last thing Bex expected to see on a lazy afternoon was Johanna Mason's worried expression.

Bex was thoroughly enjoying Annie's cooking lesson. More than she thought she would. Annie had such a warm presence when she let her walls down, and unlike Bex, she seemed to have way more than the average person. Currently, Annie was attempting to teach her how to make fish pie. Bex had made the whole crust herself and paid attention to the ingredients Annie was putting in before they sealed it. She chopped up assorted fish pieces in a particular way, informing Bex that she hadn't the faintest clue how long the fish had been frozen, so they were taking their chances here.

"Coincidentally," Annie said, beginning to slice up the vegetables, "Finnick taught me how to make this. He has one of the best fish pie recipes ever." She hesitated for a moment, her knife wedged between a carrot, and she lifted her head to meet Bex's dark irises. "He – um – visited me recently. It was really nice to talk to him again and to hear he's doing well."

Bex smiled softly. "That's great to hear, Annie." She was astounded Finnick followed her advice.

Annie chopped the rest of the carrot and placed it into the pie. "He wouldn't stop talking about you," she giggled. "Are you two –"

Johanna came skirting around the corner and hurtled herself into the kitchen. The two older Victors turned with a start, faces twisting at the sight of a troubled Johanna. This couldn't be good.

"Oh, my _gods_!" She exclaimed. "I'm so glad I finally found you, Bex."

With a brow arched, Bex asked, "What's got you in a tizzy?"

Johanna swallowed hard. "It's Phoenix."

The whisk Bex had been clutching was suddenly clattering with the counter.

"He was imprisoned this morning with Effie for stealing more food than what was given to them. There's a whole prison assigned for torturing Capitol elite, even ones that Plutarch saved but Coin doesn't deem representable."

Bex had mixed emotions about torturing the Capitol people. They were equally part of the problem with the Games and Snow's rule, but still ... anyone who was saved didn't deserve to be tortured. There was no point in saving them in the first place.

Did Coin _actually_ believe this was ethical?

"What?" She blinked twice. "Do you have any idea where they are?"

Johanna nodded. "I've heard the prisons are located in the west wing of the bottom floor."

Bex pinched the bridge of her nose and turned to Annie. She pulled her lips into the sweetest smile possible and said, "I think we'll have to cut this short."

"It's okay. Do what you need to do," Annie replied cheerily. "Just don't be surprised if I slip you a slice of fish pie later."

Bex placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. Johanna was suddenly tugging on her hand. She hardly got a moment to say goodbye before her friend was pulling her out of the kitchens. Bex yanked her head away and pointed a stern finger in her face once they were out in the hallway. "Don't hold me like that _again_ ," she warned.

" _Whatever_ ," Johanna scoffed. "What's the plan?"

She smoothed out the lines in her jumpsuit. "Get Katniss and find Phoenix and the others imprisoned. Katniss has a lot of leeway around here. She'll be able to get them out. I'll go speak to Coin."

Johanna frowned. "She won't listen to you. She hardly even listens to Katniss."

"Have some faith in me," Bex said with a roll of her eyes. "I once had the entire Capitol fooled into loving me. I'll make her listen."

Bex stalked off in the direction of the elevator before Johanna could protest. The younger girl fled in the opposite direction, in search of Katniss. Bex practically pounded her fist onto the buttons, closing the elevator and taking her up to the top floor. Her whole body was bubbling with rage, simmering underneath her scars and skin. Whatever game Coin was playing here, it was unfair, and certainly wasn't going to make the Victors trust her any more.

The elevator came to a screeching stop and Bex hauled the door open. She stomped across the bridge, where Plutarch stood in front of the doors to Coin's board room. He was tapping his foot impatiently, clearly waiting for a sliver of her time.

"Hey," he said, noticing Bex's angry frown, "what are you –"

She lightly shoved him out of the way and barged into the board room, finding Coin at the head of the table. She was watching old videos of bombings in various Districts. Bex could see on the projection in front of them that each piece of footage was categorized according to District. She was shocked to notice that Coin was watching a video of Seven, and Bex turned away, not wishing to see it.

"You realize it's rude to barge into a room without an invitation," Coin said, sinking back in her chair, "especially when a President is involved."

" _Rude_? You wanna talk rudeness?" Bex's brows pulled together. "How about you explain why your trusted stylists, Phoenix and Effie, and a bunch of other Capitol elite are stuck in a prison right now?"

Coin's expression was bored. It made Bex's hands form into fists. "They stole food. That cannot go unpunished."

"I stole food once too. Are you going to punish me?"

"No, you're a _Victor_ –"

"You can't pick and choose who can abide by the rules and who can't."

"Actually, I can," she smiled smugly. "I run Thirteen."

Bex relaxed her hands, trying to relieve the tension coursing through her body. "You need to release them and all of the Capitol people imprisoned. This is wrong. Phoenix and Effie were just _hungry_ –"

The wrinkles creased in the corner of Coin's eyes. "It's a crime. Not just _wrong_."

"What about the other Capitol elite that are in there for seemingly no reason? You can't save people and then detain them. What's the point?"

The President paused. She looked to her small cuticles, as if this conversation was tedious to her. Bex tried her best to calm her anger, but it difficult when Coin clearly didn't care what she said.

"It's a little funny," the President said, lips pulling into a sneer, "that the people you're trying to protect never once cared if you lived or died in the Games. They just wanted you to look pretty."

That wasn't true. She and Phoenix were friends. He cared about her, but he always had a job to do. They were all struggling to survive in Panem.

"President Coin, if I may be frank," Bex hesitated, placing her hand on the back of a chair. "Snow is out there right now holding innocent people hostage, and the most energy you exert is putting a couple of Capitol people in a prison for stealing food?"

Coin lifted her pale grey eyes then. She studied the fury and pain etched all over Bex's face. "Fine, you've made your point." She stood from her chair and walked over to the Victor, slow as ever. "I'll let them out on a warning, as long you start pulling your weight around here."

Her brow narrowed. "What are you talking about? I go to the kitchens every day. I do my chores."

"You're still recovering, Miss Nassar. I understand. You might be recovering your whole life. But even so, as a Victor, you need to be putting in more of an effort around here. Your presence in Thirteen is _futile_." Coin paused, watching Bex's lips purse with uncertainty. She laced her hands in front of her. 

"I've chosen District Seven for Katniss' propaganda visit," she proceeded. "The District was, for the most part, wiped out after your betrayal in the Quarter Quell, but there are still some buildings left standing. Old factories being used as hospitals. Heavy bombing was reported last week, but so far, I think I can deem it as our safest option." The President placed her hands on Bex's shoulders. "I would like it if you accompanied the team and visited the rebels encampment."

"Like you said, Seven is all but destroyed. How does it benefit anyone by me being there? I'm not the star of these propos." Bex shrugged and looked behind her at the paused video on the projection. "The District doesn't look anything like it used to. I wouldn't know my way around –"

"But you know the people and the land. Katniss must know them too if we want our propos to be powerful." Coin's hands slipped away. "We need more people to know our cause, Miss Nassar, more people to stand up."

Bex leaned back. Her jaw clenched slightly.

"They embark tomorrow at nine AM," Coin quipped, walking back to her chair. Once she was seated, she raised her head and smiled. "Get a good rest tonight. You'll need it."


	42. SPARK OF HOPE

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

#####  **__________________________**

** HER ** body was more resistant to Coin's rules than ever. Bex only got around four hours of rest, but she woke herself up for the long day ahead as if she got eight.

A black tactical suit was folded up neatly outside her door, along with a handwritten note on top. Bex assumed this was left by Phoenix, who Johanna successfully rescued from the prisons, along with other Capitol folk. You'd think the relief from that situation would've granted Bex a few more hours of sleep, but  _ alas _ . She was probably cursed.

Bex rubbed away the sleep in her eyes and unfurled the jumpsuit, grazing the heavy material. He also provided a black chest plate, a heavy-duty belt, and steel toe boots. She laid them out on her bed before unfolding the note, expecting some encouraging words from Phoenix, or even President Coin. But she recognized the perfect handwriting here.

It was from Finnick.

_ I heard where you'll be going today. The nurses love to gossip so much. Good luck. You're one of the strongest people I know. _

_ By the way, heard about what happened to Phoenix and what you did to get him out. Badass, Flower Girl. _

_ All my love,  
_ _ F.O. _

Bex's fingers brushed across the creases in the paper and the inkblots from his pen. She couldn't help herself from eyeing the words,  _ All my love _ , and heart rate suddenly quickened. A small smile grew on her lips before she walked over to her bed to place the note underneath her pillow. Just for safekeeping.

It took a bit of time to put on the full suit. Bex tried to get used to the cargo material, but it was difficult to move in. She strapped on the chest plate and belt before attempting to lace up her shoes. Then, she figured out how hard it was to bend down with the chest piece on, so she had to take it off and start all over again. After completing the full outfit, she pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and grabbed her stamp tool. Her schedule told her where to meet for their trip today: the loading dock.

She took the elevator down to the bottom floor, and after walking in the opposite direction twice, a nice woman directed her towards the hangar. Bex thanked her with a kind smile and walked down a long, empty hallway, which ended with a tall set of doors. They opened automatically for her, and she was graced with the sight of at least ten thousand nukes around the room, just waiting to be used. She couldn't help but swallow hard as she strode by them, so casually, as if they weren't even there. This was all so different for her. She was used to weapons; she grew up learning to use them. But  _ nuclear weaponry _ ... that was a whole different story.

The loading dock's entrance was opening ahead. A large hovercraft waited, the District Thirteen symbol painted on its side. Besides Beetee waiting by the ramp, she seemed to have gotten there early. The only other people she saw was a group of videographers already pacing inside the hovercraft. "Beetee," she called with a wave. "You're going on the trip too?"

"No, unfortunately, I don't think wheelchairs are made to be driven across rubble. Much safer for me here."

Bex looked down at his lap, where a sheathed weapon laid. Her brow shot up.

Beetee cleared his throat, "Uh – this is for you." He lifted the weapon and handed it over to her. Bex unsheathed the blade, eyes widening at the newly-sharpened axe. It even had a sturdy, rubber grip. "I apologize for not being able to make it more enhanced –"

"No need to be sorry," she said, still marveling at the design. "I can do better with this than anything else you've made."

Beetee bowed his head in gratitude.

As Bex placed the axe back in its sheath and secured it to her belt, another person stomped over to the hovercraft and walked inside, completely silent. Bex looked over her shoulder and recognized his face from the cafeteria. It was Gale, Katniss' friend. He really looked like he could be related to her: same dark hair, cold eyes, and olive skin. Except he was taller than she would ever be. Bex heard he was quickly moving up in the military, getting closer to Coin, but he clearly didn't seem interested in being friends with anyone else.

Katniss arrived minutes later with Colonel Boggs by her side. She was wearing the Mockingjay outfit again, her face clean and hair wrapped in the signature braid. She gripped her bow tightly as she adjusted the case of arrows on her back. Boggs nodded towards Bex and gestured for her to follow them inside. She did as she was told, trailing the second-in-command hastily.

Bex almost jumped out of her skin when she realized somebody else was pushing their way through the group of videographers. Plutarch clapped his hands together, gaining everyone's attention. "Quick introduction," he said, gesturing to the people behind him. "These people have come a long way to support the cause." He pointed to a bald woman on his right with green vines tattooed on her head. "This is Cressida. In my opinion, one of the best up-and-coming directors in the Capitol."

"Until I up and left," Cressida sneered, eyeing Katniss, Bex, and Gale individually. "Hey, all."

"Be careful everyone," Plutarch said, clapping his hands yet again before exiting the hovercraft. The doors began to close as soon as he stepped off the ramp. Bex watched him and Beetee wave goodbye from over her shoulder.

Cressida gestured to a slim man at her side with several sets of earrings and a piercing through the bridge of his nose. "This is my assistant, Messalla."

Messalla bowed his head and looked between the two Victors. "It's an honor to meet all of you."

"And your cameramen over there, Castor –" She pointed to a burly, sandy-haired man with a red beard, pale blue eyes, and close-bitten nails. They reminded Bex of her own. "– And Pollux." She finished, indicating the last man who looked exactly like Castor, but a bit shorter. He simply nodded in their direction.

Katniss cocked her head to the side and studied Pollux. "You're all from the Capitol? Plutarch got you out?"

Pollux nodded his head as Cressida answered, "Don't expect much chit-chat from him. He's an Avox. Capitol cut his tongue out years ago. And ... no, it wasn't any sort of  _ rescue _ , if that's what you mean. We all fled on our own. For this.  _ For you _ ."

Bex was suddenly hit with a wave of nausea as she remembered flashes of Angelo. When she first met him in Seven to their last conversation in the Capitol. She remembered his bright smile that had slowly faded into nothing once they cut out his tongue. He had always been a good person, but was dealt with the wrong hand. Now he was dead.

She was so disoriented that she hadn't realized the engine had started and everyone was taking their seat. Her body jumped slightly when Boggs put a hand on her shoulder, but she settled once she saw his face. "Time to go, soldier," he said softly. Bex nodded and took the empty seat beside Cressida.

She tried to get more sleep on the ride over, but the hovercraft arrived at District Seven within thirty minutes. Bex rubbed at her eyes as the hovercraft landing shakily in the rubble. Looking out the window, she felt her chest tighten at what her home now looked like. Being told that Seven was destroyed felt like nothing compared to seeing it. Her District had been reduced to ash and dust.

She cracked her knuckles instinctively. It was starting to become a habit.

Boggs approached her as she unbuckled herself and stood up. "Do you mind walking out with me first to see if you can recognize anything?"

"I'll try," she replied, following his lead as soon as the entrance opened.

They were both hit with a cloud of ash when they walked off the hovercraft. Bex coughed as it entered her lungs. She didn't pay attention to Boggs commanding the others to move out. Her eyes were glued to the scenery around her, and she tried her best not to tear up. The hovercraft had landed near one of the great forests, but it had all been burned down. Wood chips scattered the dirt, taking its place. Almost every building and home were destroyed, even the Justice Building. She didn't want to think about what the Victors Village looked like, if it had been touched.

"This place ... is nothing like how it used to be," she muttered as the hovercraft flew away. "It's as barren as a desert."

Boggs appeared by her side. "That can't be. We have allies here. They have to be hiding out close by."

Bex looked to her left, where the District's oldest paper factory still stood, partly burned down with half a roof. Even the large window panes had been blown out. She pointed to the building. "If I had to guess, they would be there." Spinning on the heel of her boot, she told the others, "This used to be the largest paper factory in the District. We had others, but this one was closely tied to the Capitol. I think the owner was friendly with one of President Snow's advisors. Peacekeepers always surrounded this building. If I had to hide out right now, it would be here."

Castor had his camera zooming in on her face the entire time. It was attached to a helmet that covered his head. Pollux was wearing the same thing, while Cressida held a tiny camcorder for her own shots. Boggs raised a hand in the direction of the factory, "Let's head out. This has got to be fast. In and out."

With their weapons braced tightly to their chest, the group rushed over to the factory in ruins. Bex remembered when this building was crawling with Peacekeepers and how quickly they had pointed their guns to defend  _ paper _ . Bex wouldn't be surprised if this factory had also been secretly used for something illegal, all under Snow's control.

A plastic sheet now covered the entryway, where two large double-doors once stood. It was moved out of the way as a familiar face walked out in rags and a handmade Mockingjay pin. A group of armed soldiers walked out with her.

"Mrs. Yance?!" Bex exclaimed.

The old, golden-haired farmer smiled in her direction. It felt like just yesterday that Bex had first seen her with the Mockingjay pin, the way she had flashed it towards a customer, how it reflected against the sun. Even knowing all that, it was still a surprise to see a familiar face. Bex assumed everyone she knew from Seven was dead. Most of them probably were.

Boggs sent Bex a confused expression before gesturing to Mrs. Yance. "Katniss, Bex, and crew, this is Commander Yance. District Seven."

Bex laid a hand on his arm. "No, I  _ know _ her." She carefully approached the older woman with a pleading stare. "Mrs. Yance, do you remember me?"

She reached out and cupped her face with one hand. With a quivering voice, she said, "Of course, I do, dear."

Relief washed over Bex like a rainstorm. "I'm so happy to see you're ..."

"Alive? Yes, I'm one of the lucky ones. But we have some back in the factory that aren't looking so good."

Bex turned back as Boggs said, "Katniss and the other Victors have been recovering, but the Mockingjay herself insisted she come out here and see to some of your wounded."

Mrs. Yance nodded, "Well, we got plenty of those."

They followed the new commander through the plastic sheet, passing through a long hallway with mold growing on the walls and water trickling down from the ceiling. Flies swarmed around them. The scent of death wafted into her nostrils immediately, and Bex found herself covering her nose with her collar. Even that didn't suppress the smell. As they walked further down the corridor, she noticed the piles of bloody bodies that surrounded them on both sides. Bex's brow pulled together.

"We have a mass grave a few blocks west, where one of our forests used to be. We bury the bodies underneath the earth and hope a tree will sprout above them. But I can't spare the manpower to move any of these people yet," Mrs. Yance exclaimed, noticing Bex's perplexed expression.

Bex suddenly brought her collar down. "I didn't mean to insult. It's just – the smell of blood –"

"I understand. It reeks of death in here." She sighed, facing the direction ahead and pointed. "The hospital's past that curtain. Any hope you give them, Mockingjay, it's worth it. Capitol's done everything they can break us here in Seven."

_ Ain't that the truth _ , Bex thought.

"You turned an old factory into a hospital," Gale said, almost matter-of-factly. "Aren't you worried about having all your wounded in one place?"

"I think it's better than leaving them to die," she argued. "It's my only option. If you can come up with another, I'm all ears. But for now, this one of the last standing buildings. This is all we've got."

Mrs. Yance pulled back another curtain, leading them into a mess hall filled with people. Some were laying down in cots, some were running around to take care of the wounded, and some were just dead with flies flocking around their body. Chatter echoed around the room, as well as coughing, cries of anguish, babies screaming. It was terrifying to think that this was the last of Seven. Bex swallowed hard and tried not to breathe. She glanced at Katniss on her right and noticed the young girl was staring at her with an immense amount of worry.

" _ You _ should be talking to them, not me," she whispered. "I don't know them. I'm not from here. Whatever I say means nothing to them."

"It means  _ everything  _ to them," Bex countered, placing a hand on her arm. "All these people – they don't give a shit about me. They haven't for a long time. All of Panem cares about you. They're waiting patiently to hear what  _ you  _ have to say. This will do more for them than any doctor in the world could. You are a spark of hope, Katniss."

A crease formed between Katniss' brows, and she looked back at all the sick people crowding around each other. Her teeth pressed down on her chapped bottom lip. "Don't film me in here," she muttered toward Cressida. "I can't help them."

Cressida viewed down at Katniss. "Just let them see your face."

After a moment of hesitation, Katniss nodded, but she didn't move. Her feet were frozen for another solid moment, and then she walked forward, into the center of the mess hall. The rest of the group followed her inside, lingering in the background. Mrs. Yance stood beside Bex with a hopeful expression, while Bex's hand tapped impatiently against her mouth. She was praying this would go correctly.

As Katniss ventured more inside, Cressida and her team moved around the room, still staying towards the back. They needed to get this shot from every angle. The commotion got lower and lower when the citizens of Seven began to notice Katniss. Soon enough, not a soul spoke. They were only staring at  _ her _ .

Katniss looked like she was struggling to take in the scene before her. She clenched and unclenched her jaw, stopping in the middle for the room.

Bex chewed on her nails then, watching everyone in the room stand around the Mockingjay.

"Katniss ... Everdeen?" A child with a slice etched down her face marveled at Katniss. She held a rag to her bleeding cheek. "What are you doing here?"

"I ..." Katniss swallowed and cleared her throat. "I came to see you."

"What about the baby?" An elderly woman asked. Her fine, white hair was stained with red.

Katniss breathed unsteadily. "I lost it."

Bex's face muddled. She was surprised some people still fell for that trick. But the way this woman was peering at Katniss told Bex that not everyone was in tune with Game tactics as Victors were. She wished she could make regular people understand what they had to do to simply stay alive, even after the Games. But looking around the room, seeing what was left of her District – Bex thought these people understood the meaning of survival even better than she did.

"You fighting Katniss?" A male spoke this time. He was tall with cropped black hair, a bandage wrapped around his neck, and several wounds lining his face. A rifle was strapped to his back. "Are you here to fight with us?"

Katniss nodded earnestly. "I am. I will. You're not alone."

The boy brushed three fingers against his lips before raising them in the air. "There it is!" Cressida whispered loudly, tightening her zoom around the room. The three-finger salute had become somewhat of a symbol for Katniss, but Bex had learned that it had originated from Twelve as a sign for showing respect or gratitude.

And now, everyone in the room was doing it, crowding around Katniss, staring at her. Their three fingers were held up proudly, telling the young Mockingjay that they were with her too. Bex got goosebumps from just looking at it. Katniss slowly turned in a circle, scanning every set of eyes in the room, lip quivering.

She stopped in place, looking right into Pollux's camera, and gave it a face that would even scare President Snow.


	43. YOU BURN WITH US

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

#####  **__________________________**

**THE** scent around the mess hall was enough to make Bex upchuck. The longer she stayed, the worse it got. But as soon as filming ended, she allowed a small boy who recognized her to lead her over his dying family. Looking down at the mother and father, who had suffered multiple wounds, to the little boy's face – Bex decided that she could stomach anything. How selfish would it be to leave her own people without saying goodbye, just because she couldn't stand the smell of blood?

Some whispered her name as if it were a deadly secret, walking over to her with scratched-up hands and blind eyes, and she hugged each of them like they were her own family. These were the same people who stopped caring for her once a new Victor had been chosen after her win. The same people who looked a different way from her at the market. But now, she guessed, seeing her meant something different entirely. It meant that they were all survivors.

But, like Boggs said, their visit here had to be fast. Mrs. Yance led them out of the hospital and back to where their hovercraft would hopefully be waiting. If it wasn't, then she'd know where to shelter them for the time being. Boggs walked with Mrs. Yance, discussing military strategies, as Cressida and her team reveled in all the good footage they got in the hospital. Bex walked with the two best friends from Twelve, listening to Gale as he exclaimed, "Your mom's gonna be proud of you when she sees the footage, Katniss. It's playing in all the Districts?" He asked Cressida.

The director laughed. "Are you kidding? It'll be tattooed on their eyes."

Bex opened her mouth to chuckle at her statement, but Boggs was suddenly putting a hand out to stop all of them, looking up towards the sky. He had his radio gripped tightly in one hand. "There's a problem," he said. "Incoming bombers from the north."

"From the _Capitol_?" Bex blinked a few times. "How would they have known we're here? The center of the District used to be crawling with cameras, but they all would've been destroyed from the bombings. Just like the buildings." She gestured to the rubble surrounding their feet.

"It doesn't matter. We need to find cover now," Boggs said.

"There's a bunker up ahead," Mrs. Yance informed, already running. She led them to a small building situated around a sharp corner. Bex hardly remembered seeing this in the Square until the commander explained, "This was actually an old bar a lot of our lumberjacks would go to after work. You might recognize it, Bex."

As they neared the building with cracked windows, Bex realized that she was right. The sign that used to hang crookedly outside the bar was gone, probably lost in the bombings. The once green roof was now covered in ash. Her dad used to visit sometimes, after a long day at work. It used to worry her mother when she was little.

"Aspen's Saloon, right?" Bex asked.

"Exactly," Mrs. Yance replied, holding the door open for everyone. (Well, what was _left_ of the door.) The bar was small, and hardly any of the furniture was left unharmed. Bex noticed a set of stairs that led down somewhere. "Take the stairs," her friend instructed. "Down there is a basement I equipped as a bunker –"

Before she could finish her sentence, bullets began to rain down outside, loud and furious. Boggs screamed for everyone to take cover. They all bent towards the ground, shielding each other, as Mrs. Yance slammed the door shut. Bex was hardly breathing as the commotion outside got worse. She plugged her fingers in her ears, hoping to cancel it all out.

And then, it all stopped. Silence echoed throughout the District.

The group looked at each other with perplexed expressions. Bex was the first person to stand, despite Boggs' demands, and walked over to one of the big windows in front of the bar. Boggs kept ordering her to come back to the huddle, but Bex decided she didn't care. She just wanted to make sure her District was safe. Mrs. Yance was looking at her as if she were crazy, back pressed against the door.

"Everdeen, Hawthorn, get back here!" Boggs commanded.

Suddenly, Katniss and Gale were standing on both sides of her, peering out the window. Hovercrafts zoomed throughout the sky at an impressive speed. Bex blinked, registering the Capitol symbol painted on them. Soldiers on the ground aimed their rifles at the hovercrafts and shot until their fingers felt like bleeding. As they watched the hovercrafts fly farther and farther away from the remains of the District, Bex wondered if they had come just to scare everyone.

But then the bombs came.

One, two, even three explosives went off outside the bar, killing every soldier on foot. The window in front of them shattered completely, sending Bex, Katniss, and Gale back against the floor. A cloud of smoke wafted into the bar and obscured their sight. Bex lifted her head from the ground, and for a second, all she could hear was a ringing in her ears. She looked around and saw shadows moving in slow motion through the smoke. She was sure that she had said something, but she couldn't hear it until a moment later, when everything got loud again. More shots fired outside.

Pollux helped her stand. She gripped him for balance and asked, disoriented, "What happened?"

He motioned an explosive with his hands before reaching out. Bex suddenly felt something protruding from her cheek. When Pollux brought his hand back, she saw glass between his fingers. Her cheek stung and blood leaked from her wound as he picked off the rest of the small shards. "It's okay," Bex said after a moment. "I'm okay. There are more pressing matters."

Katniss coughed and waved away the smoke with her hand. Despite the threat still coming for them, she walked back to the broken window and stuck her head out. Gale followed her lead and pointed to one hovercraft headed in the opposite direction of their hideout. Bullets were still buzzing in the air as he said, "They're heading towards something in the south."

"The hospital," Katniss breathed.

They didn't have time to do anything. Katniss had been nocking one of her enhanced arrows, gifted to her by Beetee, when she realized all hope had been lost. Within seconds, another bomb was dropped, and the explosion shuddered throughout the District. The hospital had been bombed.

The group stumbled to the ground, but Bex had made sure to hold onto one of the old barstools for dear life. She clutched her axe tightly with the other hand, as if it were a lifelong friend. More smoke drifted through the window. She crawled over to it, eyes stinging from the ash. In the south, fire erupted and tore down what remained of the hospital. Mrs. Yance saw it too, and together, they began to sob uncontrollably.

All those innocent people – wounded people – were _dead_. Hot, wet tears stung at Bex's eyes as she watched the last of her District burn to the ground.

She had done so much to stay alive over the years, to make sure something like this didn't happen. She had pretended to like President Snow. She agreed to his plan to save her brother. She allowed stylists to dress her up, and men to use her, touch her, and fuck her like a sex doll. She wasn't a person anymore, but that had been okay as long as people were safe. There were no more people left to worry about now. They all died in that hospital.

"EVERDEEN!" Boggs shrieked behind her head.

Bex whipped her head around, realizing that Katniss had jumped from the window, headed right out into the fire and rubble scattered around what was left of District Seven. She aimed her arrow into the sky, a snarl rippling from her throat. One of the hovercrafts – the same one that had just bombed the hospitals – was circling back around. As it got closer, a large gun dropped from the bottom of the hovercraft and positioned itself right on Katniss. But she didn't let them attempt a shot. She screamed and sent her arrow flying, attaching itself to the side of the hovercraft.

A few seconds later, it went up in flames. The hovercraft zoomed past Katniss' head and crashed right before the bar, exploding into several different pieces. Flames shot from the rubble, surrounding the entire District in a ring of destruction. Bex heaved and cried as she stepped out of the old bar. Boggs, Gale, and Cressida's team followed suit to check on Katniss. Mrs. Yance didn't move from inside the bar, too shocked to move. She couldn't stop sobbing into her shirt. Bex didn't blame her. She wanted to believe this wasn't real, but as she scanned the ruins around her, all she wanted to do was beg for Snow's mercy. Anything to make this stop.

But doing that would useless. She didn't have her home anymore. She didn't even have her brother. Mercy wouldn't solve anything.

Slicing his head right from his wrinkly neck was the only solution.

The smoke around the hovercraft dissipated. Boggs walked ahead of the group, gun pointed towards a figure emerging from the crash. The group almost didn't believe their eyes when an unmasked Peacekeeper began to crawl out. His pristine white suit was now covered in dirt and blood. He couldn't even stand on his own two feet. "Everyone is dead," he shouted, putting one arm up in surrender. "I'm the only survivor. Please. Mercy."

Bex grit her teeth. Before he could say another word, she hurled her axe in the Peacekeeper's direction. He screamed, and then the blade sunk into his back. His whole body went limp as bone cracked and the blood spread throughout his uniform. Bex allowed her jaw to relax, but her body still felt like it was on fire. No amount of bloodshed would be enough until Snow was dead.

Boggs lowered his weapon and turned to Bex instantaneously. "Why didn't you wait?!"

Bex stomped through the dirt and ash, yanking her axe right from the Peacekeeper's back. She heard his spine crack as she ripped the blade out. She looked back over at Boggs. "Because he didn't deserve it."

All she could see was red. Bex viewed down at her hands, and there it was again. The red, the _bloodshed_. It was splattered across her palms and caked underneath her tiny fingers. This had once scared her. Not anymore. For the first time, Bex welcomed the carnage like an old friend, because she knew that she couldn't escape the anger any longer.

Rage was a quiet thing, but there's always a breaking point. A point when it all gets too loud. As she looked into the burning embers of the fire around them, Bex knew that she wasn't going to ignore that rage anymore. Revolutions were built on it.

Katniss was attempting to run into the flames, just to help anyone still left in the hospital. But it was no use. The building was all but burned to the ground. Gale latched an arm around Katniss' small torso and held her back. "We _need_ to help them!" She screamed, even though she knew it was futile.

The propo team surrounded Katniss in a circle. Cressida called out her name and aimed her camcorder at Katniss' face. Boggs and Bex joined the group, watching the Mockingjay's expression change to one of true anger.

"Katniss," Cressida called again, "can you tell everyone what you're seeing right now? What do you want to say?"

Katniss slowly turned to face the cameras. Gale released his grip on her to get out of the shot. She looked to Bex as if she was asking for permission. Wiping away the dried tears on her cheeks, Bex nodded.

Cressida pointed to Pollux's camera. Katniss breathed heavily and approached the lens, lips trembling.

"I want the rebels to know that I'm alive," Katniss spoke loudly, struggling not to choke on the smoke surrounding her. "I'm in District Seven, where the Capitol just bombed a hospital, filled with unarmed men, women, and children. And there will be _no survivors_!"

Bex felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes again. She pulled up her collar, trying to hide her mouth as it wobbled. The embers floated all around them.

"If you think for _one second_ that the Capitol will ever treat us fairly if there's a ceasefire, you are _lying_ to yourself! Because we know who they are and what they do." Katniss jabbed a finger at the explosion continuing to wreak throughout Seven. " _This_ is what they do! And we must _fight back_!"

Katniss turned, facing Castor's camera now, brow narrowing. "President Snow says he's sending us a message? Well, I have one for him. You can torture us, and bomb us, and burn our Districts to the ground. But do you see _that_?" A sick smile grew on her face as she gestured to horror rippling around them. One of the last of the hovercrafts could be seen through the flames, soaring off into the distance. The Capitol seal on its wing seemed to shimmer through the fire, now reaching up towards the sky.

"Fire is catching," Katniss growled, making sure no one missed a word. "And if we burn, _you burn with us_."


	44. THE REAL MOCKINGJAY

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

#####  **__________________________**

** BEX ** didn't even get to say hello to Finnick when she arrived back at Thirteen. She was thrown into the hospital, her cheeks still bleeding from the glass shards puncturing her skin. She had to get stitches. It felt so tedious to watch the doctor's needle move in and out of her skin from the corner of her ear. She could've been knocked out for it – and now realizing it, that would've been a smarter option – but Bex laid there wide awake just to feel  _ something _ . After everything she saw on that trip Seven, she wanted to feel the needle piercing her skin, sewing her wounds closed, just to remind herself that everything happened was real.

Everyone was truly gone from Seven, besides the ones that were able to escape to Thirteen. There were no survivors from the hospital explosion. All those innocent people ... burned to nothing but  _ ash _ .

Bex found her teeth clenching absentmindedly and clutching the collar of her shirt. Tears began to gather in her eyes again. She brushed her thumb over the emerald on her mother's ring as the doctor urged her to calm down. "I cannot do my job correctly if you don't relax," he cooed, but Bex wanted to bark that it was easier said than done.

Thankfully, her wounds weren't that bad. After her stitches, she was free to go back to her room and change, but Bex took the sliver of opportunity to visit Finnick and feel his arms around her waist. She took in his scent and relaxed her muscles. It all reminded her of home – her  _ new _ home, Thirteen, not her old home. Seven was long gone, and she'd have to embrace that she was going to be in Thirteen for a long while. And that's where Finnick was.  _ He _ reminded her of home.

She whispered to him all that she saw today, and he simply listened, taking it all in. She wondered if he even understood the magnitude of the Capitol's actions, but he'd see soon enough. The propo was going to be shown later today, Cressida said as they landed. Bex was just glad to have someone listen to her, to allow her to cry on their shoulder and stain their shirt. Finnick would always be that for her. He was kind like that.

The propo team, indeed, got their video edited in time. Bex managed to get a quick shower in and changed into a new set of clothes before Coin called everyone in for an announcement. The Victors were asked to find her first at the podium. Bex took the elevator to the tenth floor, where she found Coin, Plutarch, and the others waiting patiently by the President's metal platform, watching the citizens of Thirteen congregate down below.

Plutarch instructed each of them on where to stand. They all had to be on the right of Coin, backs pressed against the wall, and they must be in a specific order. Katniss was first, then Beetee, Annie, Finnick – whose back when stiff as he got close to the younger redhead – and finally, Bex and Johanna. "Why are we standing up here?" Bex asked Plutarch as he situated her shoulder.

"To show unity," he whispered. "Presentation is everything, Miss Nassar."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. Even when they were so far away from the Capitol, they were incorporating their principles almost all the time.

"Welcome," Coin said once the crowd went silent. "After a harrowing journey into the ruins of District Seven, Katniss Everdeen and crew have provided us with our soon-to-be most talked about propo to date. I wanted to show you all first. Enjoy."

Coin stepped back as a video began to play on the large screens surrounding the center. Cressida and her team had certainly done their job, and Katniss looked scary good. The flames encircling her did wonders for her Girl on Fire image, but Bex couldn't get by the fact that was  _ her District  _ burning to the ground. The destruction of  _ her home  _ was being used in means of propaganda. She knew this footage would do wonders for the rebel's cause, but she couldn't stop her insides from twisting together.

"We know who they are and what they do," Katniss said viciously into the camera, accompanied by a rich score. " _ This  _ is what they do! And we must  _ fight back _ !" The video shifted to Katniss speaking with the wounded at the hospital, when they held up the three-finger salute for her, and then went back to her in front of the sparks licking at her hair. "You can torture us, and bomb us, and burn our Districts to the ground. But do you see  _ that _ ? Fire is catching. And if we burn,  _ you burn with us _ ."

The propo ended on a high note: it was a shot of Katniss sending her arrow towards one of the last Capitol hovercrafts, when it had exploded into the air and crashed to the rubble below. Then, there was an animation of Katniss' mockingjay pin, spreading its wings as flames burst from the edges of gold. The words,  _ JOIN THE FIGHT, JOIN THE MOCKINGJAY _ , shined against the dark background. It was certainly going to get people talking.

The citizens of Thirteen were ecstatic. They jumped to their feet and applauded so loudly that Bex almost thought she was at an interview with Caesar Flickerman again. She looked down at the people below. If they were all dressed in wild fashion, she could easily mistake them for Capitol citizens. Their expressions were that  _ enraptured _ .

Finnick looked over at Bex, who was chewing on her lip anxiously, not paying attention. "Bex," he breathed, "I didn't realize truly how bad it was –"

"I know," she exhaled, "and how could you. I could only describe the things I saw when my eyes weren't closed. Those shots were chosen because they were pretty. It was ..." She licked at the corners of her lips. "...  _ So  _ much worse."

He grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together. Bex looked down at their entwined grips and lifted her eyes to his. She felt the urge to kiss him then, even in front of everyone. She watched his lips purse with clear attentiveness. It was hard not to look away.

"Just think of it this way," he whispered over the cheers, "the more people on our side, the closer we are to Keaton, even Peeta."

Bex quickly smiled at him, but his words did not make her feel any better. She just didn't want to disappoint him.

Coin approached the podium, pulling on Katniss' hand to join her. The young Mockingjay looked surprised to be so front and center. She stood there, frozen, as Coin's grip on her hand went tight. The President smiled towards the crowd.

"There is no progress without compromise," Coin said eloquently into the mic. "No victory is without sacrifice. But I stand here with the Mockingjay to announce that our moment has arrived!"

The President lifted their joined hands in the air. Katniss' steely eyes scanned the enthusiastic crowd, and slowly, a small smile formed on her mouth.

Coin nodded in Katniss' direction as she continued to wave at the crowd. The teenager bowed her head and then went to join the rest of the Victors again. As soon as her back hit the wall, her smile dropped, and she released a breath of relief. Bex wondered how long she'd been holding that in.

"Beetee has increased our use of the airwaves tenfold," the President went on. "We will broadcast this message to all the Districts tonight. The Mockingjay's words inspiring everyone to join the rebellion. Together, we will become an alliance to be reckoned with."

She lifted her fist in the air as the crowd began to shout, " _ HOORAH! HOORAH! _ " The chant was continuous and it made Bex shiver, for reasons unknown to her. She felt Finnick squeeze her hand again, and she couldn't help but place her head on his shoulder for all to see.

That chant haunted her dreams throughout the night.

#####  **__________________________**

Bex was slowly getting tired of attending meetings with President Coin.

It seemed like they were happening every day now. And while she should get used to it, being a Victor and all, forgive her if she wanted to sleep in after not being able to do so for years on end. Every morning, she'd stamp her schedule onto the underside of her arm, and low and behold, the words,  _ Meeting in Coin's boardroom _ , was listed at the very top. She longed for the days that she'd sleep in until almost noon, and then go down to her shift in the kitchens. She used to think she had started getting lucky back then. Her luck was slowly running out.

She arrived in the boardroom with tired, desolate eyes and hair hardly brushed, but she was aware enough to notice that the normal crowd wasn't seated at the table. Coin and Plutarch were in their usual spots, but Johanna, strangely enough, was leaning back with her legs crossed in Katniss' seat. Beetee was next to her in his wheelchair, and then Finnick was seated on his right, leaving a free space for Bex. She pulled out the chair and sat down, noticing Annie sitting on the other side of the table, knees bent towards her chest and biting her nails.

To say Bex was surprised would be an understatement. Annie was a Victor, but nobody ever made an effort to invite her to these meetings, due to her very evident trauma. Bex was shocked Annie herself even came. Her opinion must've been critical, or Coin wanted her for something personal. Bex wasn't sure if she liked either option.

"Good morning. Thank you all for coming," Plutarch spoke gravely as Coin looked at him with arms crossed over her chest. His expression made Bex's brow shoot up. "I'm sure you're all aware of the interviews that have been broadcasting on Capitol TV between Caesar Flickerman and Peeta Mellark, using him as a puppet to order ceasefires. We recently intercepted a new interview just after our propo aired last night. We got it before it could be broadcasted to our airwaves, so no one in Thirteen has seen it. Just us." Pressing down on a small remote in his hand, the room went dark and a video began to play on the whiteboard in front of them.

The footage consisted of blurred lines until it settled on Caesar Flickerman. "Now Katniss," he began abruptly, "was arguably our favorite tribute."

The camera cut to Peeta. He was wearing a tailored, black suit with a white collar. A pristine, white rose was clasped in his hands. His face was thinning out, and the circles under his eyes were a deep mauve. Bex put a hand to her mouth. The Capitol wasn't even covering it up. They  _ wanted  _ the public to see how fragile Peeta was.

"And I think, that's what we all find most astonishing," Caesar went on. "It's that  _ this girl  _ was  _ adored  _ in the Capitol. And I think, for you, Peeta, it must be  _ particularly _ painful."

Slowly, the shot zoomed in on Peeta, panning down to the rose in his hands. Peeta was looking at it with regret. His knuckles were scabbed and bruised as the rose was played between his hands. "Wish I could give this rose to you, Katniss," he whispered.

"A sweet gesture," Caesar exhaled, "for a girl who has inspired such  _ violence _ . You must love her very much to be able to forgive her. I don't think that I could.  _ Unless _ ... of course ... Peeta, you think that perhaps she's being  _ forced  _ into saying things she doesn't even understand."

Peeta's eyes finally lifted from the rose. "Yes, that's exactly what I think. They're using her to whip up the rebels. I doubt she knows what's happening or what's really at stake."

The host nodded. "Now, Peeta, I doubt that the rebels will ever let her see this. But if they do, what would you say to her? Katniss Everdeen, the one, sweet Katniss Everdeen. What would you say?"

Peeta stared into the camera lens. His lips pursed as he debated what to say. "I would ... I would ... tell her to think for herself. Don't be a fool, Katniss. I know you never wanted the rebellion. The things you did in the Games ... were never intended to start all of this." Tears gathered in his murky blue eyes. "The rebels have made you into something that you're not, something that can destroy all of us. So if you have any power or any say in what they do or how they use you ...  _ please _ , __ urge them to stop this war before it's too late. And ask yourself, can you trust the people you're working with? Do you know what they really want?"

"Thank you, Peeta Mellark, for these ..." Caesar paused briefly. "... Revelations about the  _ real _ Mockingjay."

The footage cut out and the lights in the room flashed on once again. The Victors turned to look at each other, but no one said a word. Annie was sniffling at the other end of the table, wiping a handful of tears from her eyes. To everyone's surprise, Johanna got up from her seat and took the spot beside Annie, throwing a supportive arm around her shoulders. The redhead laid her head on Johanna's chest.

Bex thought over Peeta's words, and she had to admit ... Despite Peeta being outrageously brainwashed by the Capitol, she was beginning to wonder if there was any truth to his words. Her eyes shifted to Coin, studying her blank expression. Did they  _ really _ know the people they were working with?

Plutarch cleared his throat. "As you can see, this is ... not good."

"Has Katniss seen this?" Bex asked the Gamemaker.

He shook his head firmly. "No, Katniss can  _ never  _ see this. Once she sees how Peeta looks, hears what he says ... it'll bring her down to a new low."

"And we're at such a high right now," Coin finally said, leaning forward in her chair. "We need to keep it and stay motivated. The rebellion's fire cannot be extinguished by a mere interview."

"So why are we here?" Finnick asked, agitation in his tone.

"I was getting to that," Plutarch said with narrowed eyes. "I'm opening the floor up for you lot. Do you have any ideas for ways of distraction until it's safe enough to film another propo with Katniss?"

The Victors were silent for a moment, until Beetee murmured, "We could have a celebration of some sort." Plutarch tapped his pen against the table and wrote it down in a notebook.

"Not just a celebration," Johanna added, squeezing Annie's shoulders. "I think we should have a wedding. Annie here is engaged to Kai Seaton."

Annie immediately slid out of Johanna's hold and gave her a look of pure distress.

Finnick, on the other hand, had his brow furrowed at this new information. Bex had never told him once she found out, perplexed on how he would handle it. He seemed to be just fine; he wasn't questioning the suggestion. But she did notice the way his hand balled into a fist for a short second.

Coin sighed, "We don't have celebrations in Thirteen."

"Well, maybe you should start," Johanna quipped. "We don't know what the future holds right now and you need a distraction to keep people in high spirits. This is perfect."

Coin turned to Plutarch. He shrugged in the President's direction and said, "We could also use it as an opportunity to film a propo. Show that District Thirteen's population is safe and happy."

Bex scoffed, "Is anyone going to ask Annie what she thinks of this?"

Everyone at the table immediately spun to the fearful redhead. Annie was chewing on her bottom lip, shaking from the decision that was now weighing down on her back. The room was engulfed in a long minute of silence until she muttered, "Well ... I think ..." She looked to Johanna, who gave her a kind, encouraging smile. That was new for Johanna. Annie matched her expression, mouth curling into a grin. "Yes, that sounds like a great idea." She faced the rest of the table. "Why not!"

Finnick's hand went into a fist again. Bex quickly grabbed it, relaxing his grip. His gaze was mellow and thankful when he looked to her.

Coin heaved a sigh, causing everyone to turn back to her. "I guess we're having a wedding then."


	45. FOR RICHER OR POOR

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

#####  **__________________________**

** PLUTARCH ** was in his element when he began to plan the wedding. Although they agreed to a quick ceremony, he was doing his best to make it Capitol-worthy. He had a lot of negotiations with Coin about it. Due to the President's upbringing in Thirteen, she believed a wedding was simply two people signing a piece of paper and moving into a compartment together. Plutarch, on the other hand, with his standards, wanted a three-day celebration with everyone dressed in their finery.

They eventually came to an agreement. It was decided that they would host a one-day, traditional District Four ceremony. No one in Thirteen had the finery that Plutarch imagine, so they would wear their plain, grey jumpsuits – decorated if they pleased – while Kai and Annie's outfits would be made for them by Effie and Phoenix. Bex's old escort was ecstatic. He never expected to become a stylist in the lost District Thirteen, out of all places. But the course of this rebellion was beginning to surprise them all.

The ceremony was held three days after the decision had been made, right in the center of Thirteen, where they usually congregated for President Coin's speeches. Strings of hand-cut autumn foliage were hung up along the walls and rafters. A large group of the children had cut them out of colorful paper and tied the leaves to tiny lights. They even cut a large oak tree and glued more of their leaves to it, before hanging it up at the altar. It was a dream of autumn.

Bex stood next to Johanna near the front. Phoenix was in the first row, smiling proudly with Effie, while Coin and Plutarch stood to their right. Everyone looked to be in high spirits, just as according to plan. At least every citizen in Thirteen was in attendance, beaming from ear-to-ear. All except Finnick. He was nowhere to be found.

She hadn't even seen him at breakfast this morning. Bex had hoped he'd at least find her in the crowd and stand with her during the ceremony. She understood his absence, though. She had just hoped a little too high. Finnick Odair was still shattered on the inside and prideful, even with her hand to hold.

From the other side of the hall, Cressida and her team had their cameras in hand, capturing every movement. Kai waited at the makeshift altar with Dalton, a refugee from District Ten, who Bex worked with in the kitchens. Dalton was conducting the wedding. District Four ceremonies were, apparently, similar to the ones in Ten. He looked like he'd been doing this for a long time; his long beard matched his bushy brows, entwined with different shades of grey and white.

Kai was shaking. He was definitely anxious, but also excited, and his trembling only exceeded when the fiddler began to play. Bex wouldn't be surprised if he started sweating through his navy gloves, which conveniently matched his entire outfit. He was given one of Peeta Mellark's old suits that Effie had brought with her when she packed up, just tailored to Kai's slender body. "I don't like leaving iconic fashion choices behind," Effie had excused, and for once, her hoarding appeared to be useful.

A choir of children started to hum with the fiddler's tune. Bex was a little startled at their presence, let alone the magnitude of children that had helped decorate. She had heard of a smallpox epidemic that happened years ago from the kitchen staff. It had wiped out a lot of Thirteen's youth, but these ones looked healthy and well. The choir belted out an ancient, traditional wedding song from District Four, which likened marriage to a sea voyage.

They all turned to the aisle, where Annie began to walk down. She seemed a little taken aback to have everyone's eyes on her, ogling her like a hawk. But her face relaxed once her eyes connected with Kai's warm brown ones. Her smile replicated his and a blush crept on her freckled cheeks. Sometimes Annie liked to hide in her hair, but there was no shying away now with her golden-red locks swept back and her rosy cheeks on full display. She was wearing a dress made by Phoenix that was reminiscent of a traditional wedding dress from her District. Pearls lined the lace sleeves and the curved neckline, and the dress framed Annie's hourglass shape perfectly.

Once she was at the altar, she took Kai's hands immediately. His thumbs caressed the back of her hand, bruised knuckles and all. Dalton raised his hands, inciting the crowd to sit, and they followed suit. "Welcome everyone," he said calmly, "and thank you for attending. A special thank you, also, to President Coin for graciously allowing this wedding to take place."

Annie and Kai turned to find the President in the front row, bowing their heads in her direction. Coin simply nodded.

"We are here to celebrate the union of Kai Seaton and Annie Cresta," Dalton dawdled on. "These two are certainly a love story built for the ages. I have a feeling that whenever these souls are reincarnated, they always end up finding each other. Kai, just a few years ago, found Annie when she was in a dark place. But he, in all his efforts, helped her find the sun, and now she never wants to know the dark again."

A corner of Bex's lips lifted. She wasn't known to get too sentimental over things, but Dalton's words were sweet and kind, like a gentle touch.

Annie and Kai went on to say their vows as Dalton placed a net woven from long grass over them, bringing them closer together. They continued to gaze deep into each other's eyes, mouths just inches away, as they poured their hearts out to one another for everyone to see. Annie could be so ... disordered sometimes, lost in her own head, but she had never looked more radiant than when Kai said his vows to her. She was in a daze of happiness.

Bex's heart burned, and she silently wished Finnick was sitting beside her, clutching her hand.

A young boy from the choir strode beside Dalton with a bowl of saltwater. The conductor cleared his throat and said, "Annie, can you repeat these words, please:  _ I, Annie Cresta, take you, Kai Seaton, as my husband from this day forth. _ "

Annie was beaming as she recited, "I, Annie Cresta, take you, Kai Seaton, as my husband from this day forth." She then glanced towards Dalton. "Don't worry, I've studied the rest of the words."

Dalton chuckled and lifted his hands in surrender. He let Annie deliver the words independently.

"In sickness and in health," Annie continued, tears brimming her eyes, "for richer or poor, I promise to love and cherish you each day. You're my light, my sun that rises and sets against the ocean."

Annie dipped two fingers in the bowl of saltwater and touched them against Kai's lips. He laughed and darted his tongue out, tasting the saltiness. Kai then turned to look at Dalton, who nodded his head for the groom to go forward.

"I guess it's my turn now," Kai huffed, causing Annie to giggle. "I, Kai Seaton, take you, Annie Cresta, as my wife from this day forth. In sickness and in health, for richer or poor, I promise to love and cherish you each and  _ every day _ . You're everything to me, Annie Cresta. Our souls search for each other at least every millennium, and I'm so glad to have found you once again. You're my life. Always."

He submerged one finger in the saltwater, and with a huge grin, he brushed it on her pink lips.

Dalton took a step back and informed the couple, "You may kiss the bride."

Immediately, Kai leaned down to press his lips against Annie's. She smiled into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck, as everyone began to applaud. Even Bex's eyes crinkled at the sides as she grinned. When the couple leaned back, they cheered and sprinted down the aisle, holding their hands up for all to see. Annie was certainly glowing.

Dalton clapped his hands together. "Let the party begin!"

Everyone worked together to move their chairs out of the way and turned the center into a dance hall. Their seats circled were propped up against the walls as the citizens of Thirteen instantly formed together to start a jig. The fiddler began playing songs from District Twelve. Bex learned from Johanna that he was a lone survivor from the District, but at this moment, he looked free of all his worries. Katniss even seemed to be enjoying his tune. She stood on the sidelines, clapping along and watching her younger sister dance.  _ These songs must remind her of home _ , Bex assumed.

The whole crowd was dancing. The propo team stood along every corner of the room, filming the group, their joy being recorded for Snow and the Capitol to see. Like Katniss, Bex waited on the side surrounding the dancers, clapping with the beat. She wasn't the best dancer, so she assumed it would be safer for everyone that she didn't partake.

"Why aren't you dancing?"

Bex gasped and almost jumped forward at the sound of Finnick's voice. She turned to find him standing on her right, hands in the front pockets of his jumpsuit. He was smiling at her, despite the obvious pain in his green eyes, before looking out at the crowd. People went off into pairs and continued the jig.

Bex waited for her heart to stop beating so fast before she settled back beside him, crossing her arms over her chest. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I'm not a dancer," she exhaled. "And, frankly, it's kind of hard to be happy when the last of your family is being held prisoner."

She looked at him and took in his blank expression. Her head tilted to the side. "Why didn't you come to the ceremony? I was waiting for you."

His eyes went to the floor. "Sorry," he muttered. "It's also kind of hard to be happy when someone you used to care for moves on and is at peace with their life."

Bex furrowed her brow. Her mind began swirling with questions and she tumbled into a daze. Did Finnick still care for Annie? Had Bex been following him all this time like a lovesick puppy? She pursed her lips, a waterfall of seething words threatening to slip out, but he started to smile again.

"And then, I realized how much of an ass I was being," he continued, lifting his head. "I am happy for Annie. We all deserve a little happiness, especially her, after all that she's been through. Kai seems to bring out the best in her. He used to be one of my fishing buddies as a teenager." He shook his head at the memories. "It was rude of me to not come to the ceremony, but I'm going to try to make up for it."

From inside the circle of dancers, Annie looked over her shoulder, her bright red hair whipping across her exposed back. Her eyes lit up at seeing Finnick and she waved excitedly in his direction. Finnick raised his hand and waved back before Annie was pulled into Kai's arms again.

Bex's expression relaxed, but she couldn't stop herself from cracking her knuckles.

Finnick heard the sound and glanced at her, wary. Bex hid her hands behind her back and attempted to cover the silence by saying, "I'm sure she appreciates you being here now."

Hiding her hands hadn't been enough. Finnick's lips pulled upwards as he reached behind her and grabbed one of her hands, smoothing his thumb over her knuckles. They went limp in his hold, either out of nervousness or cracking them too often, Bex didn't know. Her heart rate quickened as he asked, "Do you want to dance?"

"I just told you that I'm not a dancer," she replied, too struck to pull away. "And we've danced before. No matter how many balls I attended in the Capitol, nothing could help with my coordination."

Finnick's eyes went narrow. "I think we should do it anyway."

She shook her head. "Finnick,  _ no way _ –"

She had to bite back the scream that rose in her throat when Finnick pulled her onto the dance floor. Bex looked around, wide-eyed, as the dancers around them continued with the jig. Finnick seemed to have already gotten the hang of it. Bex grabbed his hand and allowed him to drag her through it. Attempting to keep up with everyone's fast movements had her heart thumping against her chest. Sweat gathered at her hairline.

Abruptly, the fiddler ended his song. Bex huffed and almost fell onto Finnick. He gently helped her to stand up straight, one hand pressed against her back, as the crowd clapped for the musicians. The fiddler lowered his bow to his instrument again and began to play a much slower tune. He was accompanied by the choir of children, who harmonized with him.

With Bex pressed to his chest, Finnick viewed down at her deep onyx eyes and lifted his free hand for her to take. "Shall we?" He asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Bex sighed and slowly placed her hand in his. He was already holding her by the small of her back, so she figured she had no choice in the matter. But as she got into a rhythm with him, she realized just how much this reminded her of how they danced at Snow's last party, when they finally began to understand each other. And she was suddenly filled with a sense of peace that she hadn't felt in a long time. She lifted her chin and rested it on his shoulder. Her eyes shut and she allowed herself to be moved by the soft music.

His lips eventually lowered to her ear. "I still got it."

Bex scoffed under her breath and looked off. In the center of the circle, Kai held Annie close and swayed to the music. She watched him whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and Annie went red in the cheeks, her lips spreading wide. They never looked more in love.

Instinctively, Bex clutched Finnick even tighter.

"Sometimes I forget how strong you are," he groaned, spine going stiff. "Are you trying to break my back?"

"Oh," she murmured, loosening her grip on his hand and shoulder. She then leaned back to send him a smile. "Sorry."

Finnick's grin faded quickly. He licked at the corners of his lips and searched her eyes. Butterflies rammed against the inside of her stomach, and she could've sworn his heart was beating almost too loudly in his chest.

He exhaled, "Hey, Bex ..."

She raised a brow.

"I know – well ..." He frowned, gathering his thoughts. "I know it's been awkward, to say the least, since we got to Thirteen. But it doesn't have to be. I meant everything I said to you in the arena. You know that, right? I think I've said it enough."

Her eyes flickered again to Kai and Annie. She took in their happy expressions, the love in their eyes, the way they moved together as if they were molded like pottery. Bex glanced back at Finnick and whispered, "Now isn't the time to fall in love."

To her surprise, he laughed. "We're dancing at a  _ wedding _ , Bex. It is most certainly the time to fall in love. We don't know if we'll get another chance."

The fiddler ended his song and was applauded by the crowd of dancers. He took a bow, but Finnick and Bex were still holding each other as if the song was still ringing in their ears. In the distance, they heard Dalton announce that it was time for a toast. Children began to walk around and hand out apple cider. Bex and Finnick still hadn't moved, clutching each other like their lives depended on it.

That was, until, Bex leaned in and kissed him.


	46. NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

#####  **__________________________**

**IT** didn't take long for Katniss to find out about Peeta's most recent interview with Caesar. Gale had ratted. Bex forgot that he attended at least every meeting, but he hid in the shadows of the room, only remarking when it was convenient. And now, Katniss was furious with both Plutarch _and_ Coin. The Victors all understood that keeping the interview from her had good intentions, but they should've known that she would find out sooner or later.

In defiance, Katniss suggested – more like _demanded_ – they film a propo showcasing the ruins of District Twelve. She wanted to show the Capitol andPeeta what had really happened, but she assumed Peeta was being kept in the dark. There's no way he could be calling for a ceasefire while knowing his entire home was destroyed.

They embarked on the mission early in the morning, but thankfully for Bex, she was left out of it. She had a different set of problems to work through right now, and after what happened during her visit to Seven, she no longer wanted to partake in propo missions. Her presence was useless anyway.

The kiss she shared with Finnick at the wedding was constantly hovering in her mind, making her fingertips tingle at the thought of him or have her remember how he tasted against her lips. It was _electrifying_. She hadn't felt this alive in months. And Finnick was certainly not going to let her forget it. Bex saw him almost all the time. He even proposed a change in his assigned chore and had himself moved to the kitchens with her.

In any other circumstance, Bex would've felt smothered. But that kiss had awoken something in her entire body, and she had never been happier to have Finnick closer. _Almost_ as happy as Kai and Annie, who hadn't stopped smiling no matter how grim their environment was.

Bex had been putting food back into the pantry when she was cornered. There was only a single light hanging over her head, and even that wasn't bright enough for her to see. The staff had just finished preparing the spaghetti dinner for that evening, and Bex was now placing the boxes of extra pasta on the metal racks in the pantry. She heard the door creak from over her shoulder, but paid it no mind. Placing the last box up on the highest shelf, she turned with a gasp.

Finnick waited right behind her, grinning from ear-to-ear. " _Boo_ ," he whispered, placing his hands on one of the shelves, trapping her inside.

" _Gods_ ," she huffed, one hand on her chest before slapping his own. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

" _No_ ," he replied goofily, retaining his smirk, "I came back here to find you for a different reason."

"To scare me?"

He laughed. "What's the fun in changing my assigned chore if I can't do that?"

A frown set on her lips.

"I'm kidding." He leaned into her, his arms locked around her small frame. Bex felt that tingling sensation all over again. His lips grazed her flushed cheek before she felt his breath against her ear. She had to dig her nails into her palms just to stop herself from shaking. "We should ditch serving tonight."

Her eyes narrowed, and when he could tell she wasn't responding to his advances, he leaned back. One of his brows arched, confused. "What?" He asked.

"We can't just ditch," she scoffed. "It's our chore. We still have to pull our weight here."

_As a Victor, you need to be putting in more of an effort around here_ , Coin had once said, now a soft whisper in her ear.

"We've already worked half the shift," Finnick pestered. "Let's just skip the rest."

"It's still your first week, Finnick. I thought you would've wanted to make a better impression on the head chef." She arched a brow, but his sneer hadn't changed. "Something tells me we shouldn't be working together."

He bent towards her again, his mouth brushing against hers. Bex couldn't help but raise her hands and lock them around his neck, pushing herself into his chest. He whispered, " _Maybe_ ," against her lips before enveloping them fully, sealing their mouths together. She tangled one hand into his hair as his lips pressed harder against her own, and then, she found her spine hitting the rack behind her forcefully. The metal wobbled, but she didn't pay attention. She let herself fall deep into the kiss, exploring his mouth with her tongue, tasting him like he were a sweet treat. And then, the rack behind her back wasn't there anymore, and Finnick was careening into her, almost falling on top.

" _Shit_ ," she muttered, breaking away from the kiss and yanking the metal rack back up before it could fall. Finnick laughed as she straightened it out. A couple of boxes fell off the top shelf, but it could've been a lot worse if the whole rack had _actually_ fallen because they couldn't keep their hormones intact. Bex sent him a glare and said, "It's not _funny_."

"It kind of is." He pressed a soft kiss to the side of her face. Tingles erupted at the surface, and she wondered if the tiny crescent shapes forming into her palms were now drawing blood. "Have I convinced you now?"

She huffed, not responding until her hands finally released. Her fingers then raised and lingered at the back of his neck. She reflected the same smirk that hadn't left his lips. "What do you think?"

Luckily for them, there happened to be a handy exit in the back of the pantry. They looked out at the kitchen to make sure everyone was happily distracted before slipping out, running towards the elevator once they entered the hall. Bex giggled as Finnick tugged her forward, the wind blowing her hair back from her shoulders. This almost didn't feel real. Reckless behavior aside, her heart had never felt so warm until right now. She never thought she could be this _happy_.

Finnick raised the elevator latch once they got to the third floor, and then led her to room 325. He held the door open for her. She walked inside, taking in the surroundings that she never noticed in the dark. She hadn't visited his room at a convenient time until now, and for the first time, she was seeing it in the light. His compartment was definitely a lot bigger compared to hers. He even had a small closet near his bed and a small kitchen beside the desk.

Bex looked down and noticed his favorite fishbone necklace. A smile made its way to her mouth as she picked it up, running her thumb over the smooth surface. "Sometimes I used to ditch schooling with my friends and we'd go out into the woods to do something fun." She placed the necklace back on the desk and turned to face him. "So what kind of fun do you have –"

Finnick's lips were on hers instantly. His muscles rippled as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her backward. Bex was caught off guard, but still tried to enjoy this moment with just her and him, ignoring the nagging feeling of guilt that swelled in her chest. She shouldn't feel guilty for chasing her own desires. After everything she'd been through, she could be selfish and ignore her duties – _just this once_. What could Coin do? Kill them both? She doubted that.

But then, Bex felt her back press against the edge of Finnick's bedframe, and a painful hiss slipped from her mouth. It was still tender, after all this time. Her eyes snapped open. He was still kissing her, like he didn't even feel her jerk reaction. 

Realization flashed across her face. Finnick wanted to have sex. He had made it clear as day and she didn't even realize until now. It felt like ages since she'd been with someone like _this_. And not with Capitol men; it had been months since she was near one. But it had been _years_ since she had something so real, since she was intimate with someone she truly loved. Her first time had even been with a Capitol man. Bex couldn't remember a time when she made love with someone _normal_. Maybe she never had.

That was the most terrifying thought: she couldn't _remember_.

Bex broke the kiss first, leaning away to search his eyes. Her hands were on his face, thumbs brushing across the corners of his mouth. She watched his freckled cheeks begin to heat up and her heart rate increased.

"Oh, gods," he breathed, understanding what he has insinuated. His hands slipped from her waist, but she still held onto him. "I'm sorry. We can stop. It's okay. I don't ever want to pressure you –"

"No, it's okay," she whispered. "I was just caught off guard."

He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. "I just ... I don't want you to pressure you into doing something. I don't want you to think I'd ever treat you like some patron from the Capitol. We've been robbed of having true intimacy because of our agreement, but we don't have to anymore. And I only want to share a moment like this with _you_ because I ..."

Bex felt like she couldn't breathe. "Because what?"

"Because I think I'm falling in love with you."

She clamped her teeth down to prevent herself from saying something stupid. Her hands ran down his face, and she breathed in his scent like it was the first time all over again. Why, oh, _why_ had he chosen her, out of all people? She would never understand it, but she was so glad he did. Her heart opened up for the first time in years. This was what freedom truly felt like. To love without obligation felt better than every kill she made imagining Snow's face.

Their lips connected once again, warm and breathless. Bex tugged down on the zipper to his jumpsuit, and he did the same for her, smiling into the kiss. She felt his tongue slide into her mouth, savoring her like never before. For a second, Bex wondered if she was even breathing. It didn't feel like it. She'd give up breathing just to stay in his moment forever, feeling his warm hands against her bare skin, pulling her into him.

His mouth left hers to skim across the base of her neck, and Bex swore she was seeing stars. Her body was released from the ties that bound her all along. She relaxed, giving in to the depravity that was desire. And when she felt his hand creep towards her core, she knew then that this had to be some sort of heaven.

No matter how many sins she committed, nothing could keep her away.

#####  **__________________________**

Finnick's snores enveloped the dark room.

Bex furrowed her brow, tugging at the small blanket covering their bare bodies. It hardly did anything compared to body warmth. Finnick's skin was as hot as a furnace. Bex pressed herself against him and curled into his side. She wanted nothing more than him and him alone.

Her head rested against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat so very clearly, slowing to a gentle thump. Her spine was a little achy, seeing as she hadn't moved it this much in so long. Bex was still struggling to catch her breath as she clutched him tightly. Her face was colored red, and she wasn't sure if it was from exhaustion or embarrassment. Probably a bit of both, seeing as this was the first time she didn't have to _fake_ an orgasm. She was still grappling with the sensation.

Johanna's question all those months ago had been genuine. After being wrapped up in Snow's agreement for so long, she simply lost the ability to just ... _let go_. She had been so stuck in always being in control that she could never allow herself to. Every Capitol man she'd been with, she faked it. Bex could recall how excited they'd look when she pretended; it literally made them quiver inside of her. She should've been an actor if the whole killer thing hadn't worked out so well. She certainly had fooled a lot of men with her skills.

But with Finnick ... it was different. More different than she had ever imagined. She was shaking from the thought of it – how he had never let go of her, when he groaned into their kiss as they climaxed together. Bex rubbed at her face, hoping the redness would go away, but it still brought a smile to her lips.

She sat up and looked down at him. With one hand grazing his chest, she reached up and caressed his closed eyelids with her thumbs. His forehead creased, along with his scar. He sighed into her touch and opened his eyes slowly. Bex flashed her teeth. "Sorry," she said, "did I wake the sleeping giant?"

"Perhaps," he chuckled.

The pads of her fingers brushed over his sharp cheekbone and she exhaled dreamily. After a moment, he enclosed his hand over hers, lacing their fingers together. Her heart raced once again.

Bex leaned down and whispered against his lips, "Hey, guess what?"

His brow arched. "What?"

The beating increased tenfold. She could feel her ribcage tremble from just her heart pounding into it. The words were a killer in itself, so she bit down on the tip of her tongue.

_No time like the present_ , she thought.

She began, "I think I lo –"

An alarm suddenly blared throughout the bunker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this fluffy (and a little angsty) chapter. Bex and Finnick definitely deserved it after all this time. I don't know how some of y'all feel about the fade-to-black moment (I guess I'll find out after this is posted lol), but a full-on smut scene didn't feel like it would work with this chapter, in my opinion. The chapter was already really fluffy, and I didn't want the ruin the vibe with a smut scene. I also don't really feel like full-on smut goes with the tone of this whole story. But that's just me!


	47. BETTER NOT TO GIVE IN TO IT

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

#####  **__________________________**

**BEX** and Finnick leaped from the bed and yanked their jumpsuits back on. They hardly had them zipped up, their hair a mess of tangles and flyaways, before they were running out of Finnick's compartment. The automated alarm blared through the speakers, a consistent chime: " _THIS IS A CODE RED ALERT! PLEASE REMAIN CALM AND FOLLOW THE EVACUATION PROTOCOL. PROCEED IN AN ORDERLY FASHION TOWARDS THE NEAREST STAIRWELL AND DESCEND TO THE GROUND LEVEL. LAST DOORS WILL BE SEALED IN SIX MINS!_ "

There was already a crowd looping past Finnick's door and descending the stairs. The two Victors follow them, hand-in-hand, rushing down the staircase as fast as they could without tripping. Bex stumbled a few times into the man in front of her, who sent her a glare, but didn't start a fight. It wasn't the time to; not when they now had less than five minutes to get to safety. He seemed to recognize her too, and his scowl had softened even more when he noticed Finnick Odair staring daggers in his direction.

They neared the halfway point to the ground level when the stairwell began to rock back and forth. The crowd shrieked as all the lights burned out. Everyone crouched down, clutching the railings for dear life. Bex sunk to the floor and held Finnick tightly. Her face was pressed against his slightly exposed chest as the sprinklers rained down, dousing them with water.

Screams echoed again, but they faded into nothing as Bex remembered what it felt like to dream. She could picture Nico in front of her again, hand straining for her as his last dying wish. And she had done _nothing_ , because she could do _nothing_. He had done his duty and she still couldn't fathom or accept it. The sprinklers above her head pelted water onto her face, but she didn't feel it. Her stare was so distant as the memory of Nico played over and over again in her head.

She screamed, and no one thought anything of it. They assumed she was joining the crowd's fear. But Finnick knew it was more than that. He wrapped his arms around her tighter, placing one hand on the back of her head and smoothing down her wet hair. He brought her back to reality while rocking her, whispering, "I'm right here," in her ringing ears.

" _LAST DOORS WILL CLOSE IN THREE MINUTES_ ," the alarm echoed once again.

Finnick stood with the crowd, hauling Bex up with him. "We have to go, Bex. We have to," he muttered. She squeezed his hand and began pushing through the crowd to get down. Finnick was dragging behind her. She suddenly didn't care about an orderly fashion. She wanted to be selfish and she just needed _him_ to be safe. He had already done so much for her.

They were able to reach the ground floor in a minute. A pair of large, steel doors were open, waiting for the crowd to pour in. Bex released a breath of relief as she tugged Finnick inside, sprinting down the ramp towards the underground bunker. Bunk beds were placed around the bottom level, and there were already some people who had claimed a spot.

"Where's Johanna?" Finnick had breathed against her neck.

They ventured deeper into the bunker. The lights on the cracked ceiling were dimmed, casting a yellow hue around the large room. Bex didn't care that she was practically shoving people out of the way to find her friends, but luckily for her, she found Johanna huddled with a group of people near the middle aisle. Bex called her name in a raspy tone, and her friend turned with a surprised expression.

She had been conversing with Phoenix as if everything was okay. Bex's former stylist smiled and waved in her direction. Kai was beside them, hugging Annie and rocking her back and forth on a bed. Bex ran and hugged Phoenix first, wrapping her arms underneath his. "Thank Gods, you're okay," she whispered. She then turned around and embraced Johanna, despite her cringing away.

Bex leaned back and put her hands on Johanna's shoulders. "Where's Beetee? There isn't much time left before they close the doors."

"Probably with the higher-ups, like Coin and Boggs," she replied. "He's closer with them than us little people."

"Do you know what's going on?"

"Another Peeta interview," she whispered, but everyone close turned their head. "He was responding to our propos, and for some reason, he gave us a warning. Capitol bombers are here."

Kai lifted his head towards them. "We should be okay down here, though. Colonel Boggs promised that." He said, but no one was sure if he believed that or he was saying it for Annie's sake. She didn't stop sniffling.

Bex stepped away and frowned. Her back collided into Finnick as he enclosed her in his arms. Johanna smirked, as if the alarm still wasn't booming around them. "Where were _you two_? I didn't see you guys serving dinner when the drill went off."

Judging from her sneer, Bex could assume that Johanna had somewhat of an idea. Whether it was accurate or not, she didn't want to know. Her eyes narrowed towards Johanna before Finnick steered her away, bringing her close again.

Bex rested her forehead on his chest, breathing in the sweat still coating his skin. His hand ran through the wet tangles on her hair. They were both drenched, but somehow, they found warmth in each other's arms. Bex would never get tired of this feeling. She felt so safe being this close to him.

The timer eventually stopped and the doors snapped closed. Katniss, along with her younger sister, Prim, and Gale arrived just in time. The two teenagers stood in front of the doors to catch their breath while Prim held an orange cat and kissed its head. Bex looked over Finnick's shoulder and watched Katniss and her sister find her mother amongst the crowd. She looked nothing like Katniss, more like an older version of Prim. With crossed brows, Bex wondered if Coin could live with herself if Katniss didn't make it in, if she ever died.

Perhaps she could, but as Bex thought more about it, she didn't believe that Coin had any ties to Katniss, nor did she have any ill will. The Mockingjay symbol was definitely more of a use to her alive, but ... it could have the same effect if Katniss had passed on. Coin's loyalty was a grey area.

As Katniss glanced over and waved towards her friends, Bex hoped that fate would never come about.

Finnick pulled her over to one of the beds propped up against a wall. He took the bottom bunk and leaned back into the stiff pillow, holding Bex to his chest. Her body curled into his side again, reminiscent of how they laid in their state of bliss just thirty minutes ago. Life had changed so quickly and out of nowhere. Bex supposed that she should be used to it by now, but no one should ever have to be familiar with this much horror. It was inhumane.

The bunker shook at least every three minutes. Plaster crumbled from the ceiling, splitting cracks in the formation. Bex swallowed hard and buried herself more into Finnick. If she laid her ear on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, it was like nothing was wrong. It was just them together, sleeping soundly.

But then the walls _really_ shook, and all the lights turned off immediately.

Children cried while the adults tried to stay as quiet. No one could hear them. Screaming just made everyone more on edge. Hanging off the top bunk, thankfully, was a small lamp. Everyone turned their lights on and the bunker was lit up by a warm, orange tone. The screaming died down once they could see each other, but everyone was still on edge. Every time the walls rumbled, the crowd would become hysteric for a short moment.

Eventually, the shaking stopped. Bex didn't know when. She managed to get the tiniest bit of sleep, somehow, in a means of distraction. When she woke, she was still in the same place, but the bunker was completely silent. Two officers were currently inspecting a large crack in the ceiling of the middle aisle. She lifted her eyes and noticed Finnick's expression was contorted, concentrated on something. She looked back down. With his arms still around her, he was making knots in a short piece of rope.

"Can I ask you a question?" She spoke up suddenly, but he didn't show any surprise. Her finger grazed the lapels of his jumpsuit. "I know it's a stupid question, but ... When you said you were ... falling in love with me, did you mean it?"

He was silent, so Bex sat up to get a better view of his face, making sure he hadn't fallen asleep on her. But he was fully awake, staring at her with his brows pulled together.

"Why would you ask me something like that?" There was a hard edge to his tone.

"Because everyone I get close to ends up getting hurt. You know that. It's old news," she sighed, averting her eyes for a moment. "I'm already struggling so much with my brother, but ... I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, honestly. You're the only person who's stuck by me and shown true kindness and affection, even when I've pushed you away. You've never given up on me. And if Snow ever took you ..." Her voice trailed off. She didn't even want to think about it.

He placed his thumb on her chin and turned her face back to his. "It's not going to happen," he breathed, so charismatically that she believed it without question. Finnick had that instant effect on people. "Don't let Snow get to you like that."

"How can I _not_? How can I live with it?"

Finnick tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I drag myself out of nightmares where there's no relief in waking up. But ... it's always better not to give in to it."

Bex's lips parted, but she didn't have the strength to reply.

He smiled softly. "You should rest more. I'll be right here."

She nodded, placing her head back on his thumping heart, letting it lull her to sleep. He caressed her hair as she gripped one of his lapels. She never wanted to let go.

As she closed her eyes, she couldn't help but wonder if President Snow ever expected this. His Golden Boy and Flower Girl, finding comfort in each other, uniting together against him. No Gamemaker could make a better story if they tried.

"By the way," he whispered, and she could just hear the smirk on his lips, "to answer your question from before: I meant it. Always."

Bex didn't open her eyes. "Finnick?"

"Yeah?"

She yawned and replied, "I feel the same."

#####  **__________________________**

When Bex awoke to someone shaking her shoulder, she could've sworn the bunker was under attack again. She had been having a nightmare about drowning in a pool of roses, attempting to claw her way out, but to no avail. Perhaps, she should've been thankful to have been woken. But Bex still sat up and gasped, her whole body startled until she realized who was standing in front of her. Colonel Boggs' hand was on her arm and Katniss stood behind him, waiting patiently. "What's this about?" Bex asked softly. Finnick was still sleeping soundly.

"You need to come with us," Katniss whispered. "It's important."

She huffed and carefully slipped herself out of Finnick's hold, placing his arms at his sides. The bed squeaked as she stood from it, but he kept snoring away. Bex looked at him one last time before following Katniss and Boggs. They were leading her past all the bunk beds and sleeping citizens, all the way to the entrance of the bunker. To her surprise, Plutarch waited silently in front of the locked steel doors.

"You look a little shaken up," she commented, nearing the Gamemaker.

He shrugged. "I've seen better days."

Bex stuck her hands in the front pockets of her jumpsuit. Her face was earnest. "Why am I here? Is everything okay up there? The Capitol is gone?"

"Yes, they've left. But ..." Plutarch sighed and looked to the others. "They also left us a gift waiting on our doorstep."

Her brow crinkled. Bex followed Plutarch's eyes to Katniss and Boggs, but they didn't say a word. "What _kind_ of gift?" She asked, voice barely about a whisper.

Plutarch's eyes lifted. Bex felt her whole body go numb.

"It's your brother, Bex," he breathed. "They gave him back."


	48. A GIFT

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

#####  **__________________________**

**IT** felt like Bex was gliding on air. She swore her feet hardly touched the ground at the speed she was running. As soon as President Coin had deemed it safe, the doors to the bunker had opened, and Bex was the first one out. She couldn't wait for Finnick; she didn't have time to, not when her brother finally resided in these walls again.

The Capitol had given him back, but _why_? Was he no longer useful for whatever plan they were hatching?

Bex decided she couldn't worry about that right now. She was just thankful to have him here, safe and secure in the underground of Thirteen.

She was up the staircase in no time, sprinting down the long, white hallway that led to the back entrance of the hospital. Her breathing was ragged. Her heart was practically jumping out of her chest. Bex wasn't sure if she was shaking from anxiety or excitement, but as she got closer, she decided it was a little bit of both.

She shoved her way through the entrance, full speed ahead. The hospital was nearly empty, due to most of them still leaving the bunker, but a few had stayed back for emergencies. Bex had never been more thankful for those people who had risked their lives. She stopped short in front of the first room on her right, where three nurses and a doctor were huddled together, strapping someone to a cot. When the body stopped lashing around, Bex felt water gather in her eyes.

Keaton's face was bruised and battered. She could only see his profile, but even that was damaged beyond compare. He looked like he'd been starved. His cheeks had hollowed out and his arms were skinnier than ever. Even his hair had been grown out, long and stringy strands hung around his face. His skin had lost its warm, copper tone. Now, it was almost as pale as the white bedsheets.

One nurse injected him with anesthesia while another stuck him with an IV. Bex recognized her face. It was Maryam, her nurse when she had first awoken in Thirteen. The female doctor with them place two fingers on Keaton's wrist and monitored his pulse.

Bex did a sharp intake. She wasn't sure the last time she breathed, but it felt like a while. Her teeth began to gnaw on her bottom lip.

"I got him out and to the hospital."

Bex, surprisingly, wasn't startled at the surprise presence next to her. Gale Hawthorne tended to be very quiet. He could creep up on any situation and you'd hardly know he was there, despite his hulking stature. He didn't look at Bex when she turned to him, lifting her head up. His long, black hair was pulled back, so she could see the anguish and fear in his expression. This was new; Gale usually hid his face in his hair, only showing it when Katniss was around.

She didn't say anything. Bex didn't quite know what she _could_ say. A simple, _Thank you_ , didn't seem good enough. She blinked in his direction, eyes panicked.

Gale continued to watch the physicians surround Keaton. "Katniss ventured out of the bunker to film a propo. Coin wanted to let everyone know that Thirteen suffered no casualties. But then he was _right there_ , shackled in a bed of white roses and rocks. He was barely alive when I brought him here, but ..." He exhaled. "I think he's going to be okay."

"Thank you," she breathed, though it still felt inadequate, "for saving him."

Gale glanced over for a moment and shrugged. That was the last time they spoke for the hour he stood with her, just monitoring the hospital room. He had to leave at one point to report to Coin, but he managed to give her shoulder a firm shake before departing. More medics slowly entered the hospital wing, getting back to their duties, but Bex hardly noticed a thing. She stood in that same spot for hours on end, watching an influx of physicians sew up her brother's lacerations and treat his swollen bruises.

Eventually, Finnick left the bunker and got word of her whereabouts. He found her in front of that same window around noon. His arms wound tightly around her as soon as he got close, and Bex was surprised at the breath of relief she released at his touch. Her heart seemed a lot less heavy whenever he was near. He stayed by her side for a few more hours, holding her against him, allowing her to cry into his shirt every so often. They watched the heart monitor fluctuate, but it never skewed enough to worry them.

Finally, a doctor walked up to Bex with her hands laced behind her back. Bex immediately turned, taking in the familiar face that had been inspecting Keaton. The woman's salt and pepper hair was tucked back into a secure bun, and the lines under her eyes suggested how many hours of sleep she was probably missing by taking care of Bex's brother. But her smile wasn't fake. Despite the lack of sleep, she seemed happy to do whatever she could. Bex couldn't be more appreciative of that.

"Miss Nassar?" She asked, thrusting out her hand. "My name is Doctor Kuboto. I've been monitoring your brother's health."

Bex unlatched herself from Finnick and shook the woman's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Considering the condition Keaton was found in, my news is good," she continued, gesturing to where Keaton laid peacefully in a cot. "He's stable, thankfully, but he lost a lot of blood. I can't be sure of the torture he suffered in the Capitol until he wakes, but he's fine. I believe he should recover." Her smile went tight. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you like. Please, find me if you need anything."

"Thank you," Bex breathed as the older woman turned away. She then spun to face Finnick, grabbing his hand and giving it a nice squeeze. "You should go to the kitchens. You're incredibly late for your shift."

He shook his head. "I'm not leaving you. You're still upset."

"I'm fine knowing that my brother will be okay," she paused, and then added, " _hopefully_."

Finnick's expression didn't change.

"Seriously, Finnick, go." She urged. "If I need you, I'll find you."

"No, you won't," he sighed. "You'll try to handle it on your own."

"And what's the problem with that?" Her brow shot up and she placed her hands on his shoulder. "Please, go to work. I swear, I'll be fine. I just need to watch him. I want to be here when he wakes."

Finnick placed a gentle, chaste kiss on her cheek before leaving. Bex immediately turned back to the window and bit down on the edge of her nail, not catching Finnick watching her from over his shoulder. He was worried, and there was nothing to do about that, but he knew she was stubborn and wanted to face this alone. He just needed the Nassar siblings to be okay. That was the only way Finnick would be able to recover from this war.

Bex wasn't sure how, but over the next hour, she managed to fall in and out of sleep while standing upright. It only lasted for five-minute intervals before her anxiety would wake her up, and then she'd feel terrible for resting her eyes in the first place. But after the sixth time of opening her eyes and promising herself she was never going to do it again, Bex was graced with an incredible surprise. One that had her hands pressing against the glass in awe.

Keaton was awake. He was breathing. He was _okay_.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. Bex stepped towards the door, lingering in the frame, but her feet weren't moving quickly enough. She wasn't even sure if she was breathing. She swallowed hard to quench her dry throat, but nothing was enough. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of horror and amazement. She didn't know what to do, think, or even say.

Her mouth wobbled until she finally whispered, "Keaton?"

Keaton's eyes were darting around the room – inspecting every crevice, every piece – before they landed on her. His voice was just loud enough for her to hear as he said, "Bex?" He looked down, finally noticing the straps anchoring his wrists to the bed. "Where am I?" He demanded, almost breathless.

_And here comes the most grueling conversation_ , Bex thought to herself while walking towards his cot. She sat just on the edge and after a moment of hesitation, placed a gentle hand on his arm. "You're in District Thirteen. You're safe now."

Keaton looked at her as if she were crazy. "District Thirteen doesn't exist anymore."

"Believe me, I get how hard it is to wrap your head around."

His stare flitted to the ceiling and then the walls. He found his reflection in the small mirror right in front of his bed. Keaton tried not to gasp at his appearance. It had been so long since he'd seen himself, and now that he finally could ... he never wanted to look again.

Bex's grip went tight on his arm. "You're underground. The citizens of Thirteen have survived down here for years."

He shook his head. "The Capitol will find all of you –"

"No, they _won't_. Calm down, Keaton." Her tone was steady, attempting to relax and persuade him. "I realize how difficult this is, but getting worked up is not going to help."

"Do you have _any idea_ what I went through while you were living peacefully here?" He asked, one eye narrowed. "I have a right to be so terrified."

Bex swallowed hard. Her voice cracked the tiniest bit, "I begged them to rescue you as soon as I found out. I haven't been able to sleep since –"

He looked off, lost in his thoughts. His eyes were focused on the wall, but so distant. Bex could feel his hands begin to shake as he whispered, "I heard that they plucked out this girl's razor-sharp teeth. And they injected a guy with tracker jacker venom to make him go crazy. It was so terrifying, Bex. And I couldn't do anything about it." His wide, grey stare flickered to her. "I remember when I used to get so mad at you for leaving me to go on those Capitol trips. I realize now what you had to sacrifice just to keep me safe. Everyone there ... the air ... it _reeks_ of death and corruption. I thought I was going to die."

Everything in her died once her brother had stopped talking. The fear in his eyes told her so much. They had plucked out Enobaria's teeth; they injected Peeta with tracker jacker venom. She didn't even want to think about what they could've done to him. Her heart sunk in her chest.

"You're here now, though," she muttered, trying to keep her voice even, despite the sob clawing its way up her throat. " _With me._ I'm going to make sure no one gets you. You're my big brother and you've taken care of me so much. Let me take care of you."

"No, you're still not _getting it_." His jaw clenched. "I'm alive, but I've seen too much death."

Bex's mouth felt dry. She arched a brow at his response. "What do you mean? Whose death have you seen?"

Keaton's lips pursed as he worked up the courage to speak. But instead of words, he could only cry. He closed his eyes and let the tears finally flow, rubbing them away as soon as they trickled down his bruised cheek.

"Keat," she said his childhood nickname so softly, brushing her thumb across his wrist, "seriously, what have you –"

"I saw our parents, Bex."

She was immediately on her feet, retreating backward. Her eyes went full with horror. She wanted to say, _You're lying_ , but she knew Keaton didn't have it in him to exaggerate right now.

After a beat of silence, he continued, "They've been held prisoner in the Capitol for eight years as leverage against us. They were under Peacekeeper watch all the time, and they were to be killed the second you betrayed the President's trust."

Bex's mouth began to wobble as she realized she had done just that. Her parents had been alive this whole time and she couldn't even say goodbye. They had been ripped from her yet again, but now _permanently_.

For a fleeting second, Bex wondered what they looked like, if her mom still had the same crooked smile or if her dad's hands still shook out of habit. For the past eight years, they must've endured so much pain and torture. They couldn't have looked anything like how they used to.

"D – Did you –" Her words were scrambled. She could hardly speak. "Did you see –"

"When they captured me," Keaton breathed, rubbing at his eyes again, "the first thing they did was ... make me watch a Peacekeeper shoot them in the head."

Bex wanted to walk out. She needed to, just for her own sanity. She wanted to walk away and go to her room. She wanted to sink against the door, cry her eyes out, and think about the people she thought were dead for eight years. She could reminiscence and think about the good memories. She needed some time alone to make herself at peace.

But she didn't do any of that.

She couldn't. Not when her brother has just lived through such atrocities she couldn't even begin to think about. Not when she'd just gotten him back.

Bex brought Keaton into her arms and said nothing. Together, they cried on each other's shoulders until every tear had dried.


	49. DISTRACTION

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

#####  **__________________________**

**BEX** stayed with Keaton in his patient room for almost the full day. She hardly ate anything but an apple given to her by a nurse, but she couldn't bring herself to eat much else. Her stomach churned every time she thought about what her brother had to go through. Keaton, on the other hand, slept the entire day. She didn't mind, though; all she wanted to do was watch him, and make sure no one took him from her again.

But rest was what he needed. Dr. Kuboto said the recovery process would be slow, but thankfully, Keaton didn't inherit the same impatient gene as his sister. He was so much like their mom in that way. He could wait. His wounds went too deep, so it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter. He told Bex and Dr. Kuboto that they were all given to him if he disobeyed a Peacekeeper. His chest had been kicked in so many times that they would have to perform surgery to remove one of his ribs tomorrow. Or was it the next day? Bex wasn't quite sure. She was taking in a lot of information at once.

She was just glad that Keaton was here, and he was alive, and he'd be able to heal. He was sleeping peacefully in his cot, far away from all the nightmares he experienced in the Capitol. Bex still couldn't rest, though. She couldn't stop thinking about her parents, and then all the torture her brother witnessed. The lacerations covering his exposed skin was just a taste of what he had to endure, and she shivered at the sight of them. She didn't _want_ to think about any of it, but her mind wouldn't stop reeling. To think she had been saved and was kept protected down here while her older brother's chest was being beaten in –

Bex leaned back in her chair and rubbed at her eyes. Dr. Kuboto said she shouldn't punish herself when Bex voiced her concerns. "There's nothing you could've done," she said, and she was _right_ , but that didn't make her feel any less guilty.

Her eyes felt so much better closed. Opening them to the bright light almost burned, and she groaned while continuing to rub at her lids. Today was exhausting and she could use a few ten hours of sleep right now, but she couldn't stop watching Keaton, counting his breaths, stuck in her own head.

The clock above her head chimed at the new hour. She looked up when she heard the familiar melody. It was eleven PM. Turning back to her brother, she decided he wasn't waking up anytime soon, and she could only hope another emergency wouldn't arise the second she left the hospital. The new hour was her cue to go.

She placed a kiss on Keaton's head and lingered by the doorway before finally leaving.

She didn't really understand how, but after exiting the hospital, Bex ended up at Finnick's compartment. She had been lost in her thoughts again. It was starting to become a habit. She had allowed her feet to simply move on their own as if her mind was on autopilot, and then, she was at Finnick's door, tapping her knuckles against the hard surface.

He was inviting her in within seconds. She expected nothing less from Finnick. He was quiet and listened to her as she rambled on about Keaton's news. He embraced her so quickly and allowed her to cry into the crook of his neck. He held her, warm and tight, until she stopped shaking. "It's gonna be okay," he promised, and she didn't have any hesitation to believe him. Finnick helped her to her feet and guided her over to his mattress. "You need to rest, Bex. You'll feel better in the morning."

She wasn't so sure about that, but Bex didn't have the strength in her to argue. Her tears eventually dried as she slept; her cheek was pressed against Finnick's freckled chest. She only woke up a few times from nightmares, but she'd learned since coming to Thirteen how easily it was to pull herself out of them. She just had to remind herself that they weren't real. She'd experienced real nightmares before, and they were a whole lot more gruesome. Her mind had nothing on reality.

The next morning, the two Victors were woken by a loud banging on Finnick's door. For a split second, Bex thought the walls were shaking again, and the Capitol had returned to exact their revenge on Thirteen's exterior. But she quickly centered herself and blew out a sigh. 

Finnick released an annoyed grunt while pulling on a shirt. The knocking continued. "Gods, I'm coming!" He exclaimed while approaching the door.

Bex swiftly slid off the bed as Finnick yanked the door open. She attempted to hide under his bunk, in case her presence was against Coin's rules. Her curiosity was greater than her fear though, and she couldn't help but incline her neck out from her hiding place to see who was standing in the door frame.

Lowering his gaze to Bex, Plutarch pulled his lips together in an effort to not laugh.

Bex groaned, "I was just ..." She stepped out from her spot and padded over to where Finnick stood. He also looked like he trying to suppress one of his hearty giggles. Bex shot a glare in his direction. "Never mind."

Plutarch laced his hands together behind his back. "I had a feeling you two would be together," he smiled. Bex was still scowling. She hated it when people assumed things, and she had no doubt about what Plutarch was thinking right now. "Get yourselves decent and come with me. Coin wants to see you."

"Why? To degrade us for sharing a bed?" She barked.

Finnick placed a hand on her arm, but neither of them moved.

Plutarch cocked his head to the side. "You know, you don't have to be so hostile all the time."

"Sorry if I'm still a little on edge after being lied to about your true intentions with the Quarter Quell," she seethed. " _My bad._ "

He frowned. "Just get yourselves ready."

The two Victors shared a look, but it was Finnick who shut the door on Plutarch. "It's no use getting into arguments," he sighed, and even he sounded like he wanted to protest. Bex followed his lead as he picked up his jumpsuit from off the floor. "Let's just go with him."

They didn't take long to get ready, but the two still waited by the door for a little bit longer just to irritate Plutarch. When they finally exited Finnick's compartment, the Gamemaker was tapping his foot impatiently. They chuckled softly to themselves as Plutarch led them down the staircase to the ground level. He was guiding them towards the southern wing of the bunker, where neither Bex nor Finnick had visited. After walking down a long hallway, painted stark white like every other corridor in this vicinity, Plutarch held two large doors open to a dark room with monitors and computers placed in every corner.

Beetee was currently sitting at one of the work stations near the center. He was looking between three monitors, in deep focus, with President Coin on his right side. Plutarch gestured for them to follow him over, and together, they approached Beetee and hovered around his computer. Once she was closest to Coin, Bex recognized the desperation in her expression. She was biting her lip, pondering the inevitable.

Finnick was the first to speak up: "What's going on here?"

Coin twisted around to face them, but her worry hadn't ceased. Beetee didn't reply to Finnick's question, completely lost in his work. "I have good news and bad news for you both," Coin muttered, clasping her hands together.

"Give us the bad first," Bex requested.

"Well, in order to understand the bad ... you must hear the good." The President hesitated and went to stand beside Plutarch. "The dam went down in District Five and took out most of the power to the Capitol. Knocked out their signal defenses and everything. Beetee is currently inside their system, wreaking all kinds of havoc.

"We have a window open to us," Coin lifted a single finger, "to not only save the two Victors currently still imprisoned in the Capitol, but also to air a propo. This will act as a distraction during our rescue mission. It's already underway, so we have limited time for filming."

Plutarch nodded along with her. "Not many will see it, but whoever does will think it's another propo. No harm done."

"Wait," Bex huffed, shutting her eyes as she processed Coin's response, "how long of a window are we talking about?"

As she opened her eyes again, Coin shook her head. "We don't know for certain. Until the Capitol can get the power back on."

"So what do we have to do with this?" Finnick asked. Bex swung her head upon hearing the intrigue in his voice, and her brow knitted together.

"The propo I want to shoot involves you two, specifically." She clarified, pausing to lick at the corners of her thin lips. "I want it to be about Snow's prostitution ring with the Victors."

Finnick was silent then. He looked to Bex, studying her expression, but she wasn't looking at him. Unlike Finnick, Bex didn't need to debate an answer. Her mind had already been made up.

" _No_ ," she spat, glancing at Finnick's muddled expression. " _No way_. I'm not disclosing that to all of Panem."

Coin exhaled, "I understand it will be difficult –"

"It's more than just _difficult_. I'm not giving Snow any more reasons to torture or capture the people I love. We can't do this." Bex turned to Finnick again. " _Right_?"

Finnick pursed his lips, but couldn't find it in him to respond. He frowned, averting his stare to the President and grabbing Bex's forearm. "We'll get back to you."

"What?! _You_ –" Bex stammered viciously as Finnick began to haul her out of the tech room. "We are _not_ – no, _I am not_ –"

"Think quickly," Coin reminded, watching Finnick Odair yank Bex through the double doors. Her face twisted. "Our time is extremely limited! Cressida and the others are waiting by the exit."

The doors shut quickly. Bex tugged her arm out of Finnick's strong grip and whipped around to face him. Her hands formed into fists and her pure onyx stare seemed to get even darker. Finnick swallowed hard.

"Don't _ever_ pull me like that again," she snarled.

He huffed begrudgingly, " _Bex_ –"

"'We'll get back to you?' What _the hell_ does that even _mean_ , Finnick?" Her voice seemed to get louder with each passing second. Bex's fury knew no bounds. "I meant what I said. _No_!"

"Bex," he said, almost pleading now, "there are soldiers risking their lives _right now_ to save our fellow Victors and they need us to provide a distraction. _To do our part._ We need to do this."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "No, we don't."

"Yes, _we do_. Everyone has to know about Snow's biggest secret with the Victors. They have to know that even people who win the Games aren't safe. No one will be until Snow's gone. Not many will see it, but this is _important_." His brows crossed. "Why are you being so irrational about this?"

Her eyes went wider. " _Irrational_? Do you have _any idea_ the scope of what that woman is asking of us?" She slapped her hands against her sides. "I can't air all my dirty secrets, Finnick. I just got Keaton back, but that doesn't mean it was lucky. It was a _warning_. I don't want to hurt more."

"I understand that, Bex. You know I do." He walked forward and took her hand, lacing their fingers together. Bex's breath hitched once his warm palm covered her cool skin. "But the Districts are hurting just as much as we are. People need to know. And it's to help save Peeta and everyone they still have captured."

Her eyes narrowed. Bex exhausted all her effort. No matter how many times she explained herself, Finnick wouldn't understand. Or maybe, she _was_ just being irrational. It didn't matter. She wasn't doing this. She _couldn't_.

Coin could find another Victor to take her place. Johanna might do it, if someone asked her nicely. But no one knew Snow's agreement like Finnick and Bex. They were his best products, adored by everyone, and knew the Capitol by the back of their hand. _No_ , Johanna couldn't do this propo. Only Bex and Finnick could, side-by-side, standing against the Capitol.

But she wouldn't. Not today.

Bex pulled her hand away from his, despite the constant craving for his warmth. Her jaw clenched as she hissed, "Have a nice time doing it on your own then."


	50. THE MYTHS OF A LIFE OF LUXURY

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER FIFTY

#####  **__________________________**

**THE** walk back to her pod felt like a dull, long-drawn journey. Bex's head was spinning and she couldn't stop her hands from clenching so hard that she began to feel pins and needles. She was just _so angry_. At Finnick ... at Coin ... even Plutarch. Her blood was practically boiling underneath her skin. Would the anger ever subside?

It didn't matter. She wasn't doing that propo anyways.

Her plans involved ignoring everyone for the rest of the day. She wasn't going to kitchens. She wouldn't go downstairs for lunch or dinner. She'd stick to her pod and only come out when the darkness revealed itself. She didn't care, she didn't want to care, she didn't –

"Screw _this_ ," she muttered, pushing her door open, "screw _Coin_."

Bex stood in the middle of her room for a moment, grinding her teeth together, digging her nails into her palms. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. She hoped – more like, _pleaded_ – that doing this would help the anger diminish. Her worries might just float away.

But then she was raging, stomping around her room like some monster in an old wives' tale. She tore the blankets and sheets off her bed, throwing the flimsy mattress to the other side of the room. It made a loud _thud_ as it smacked against the wall. She grabbed her one single pillow and screamed into it.

She was overreacting. She _knew_ this. It was expected after everything she'd gone through. But she didn't care.

"Screw _Plutarch_! Screw _all those Gamemakers_!" She roared, walking back over to her mattress to throw it again. She still had so much rage and destruction seemed to be the only thing that was helping. " And _screw Finn_ –"

Bex stopped short as she was bending down. The tips of her fingers brushed against the edge of the mattress and for some strange reason, she looked up, staring at the thin piece of paper she had pinned to the wall right beside her door. Her mouth went dry at the sight of it, and she couldn't help herself when she plucked the pin out and reread the note all over again.

Her hands grazed the stained ink on the page. She couldn't stop the sides of her lips from pulling up at his words. _You're one of the strongest people I know_ , he wrote, sending her heart ablaze.

Finnick had written this letter to her before she visited the ruins of District Seven. She remembered finding it on top of her tactical gear, patiently waiting for her eyes to take in the words. Memories of the past danced through her head. Finnick had always been there for her, even in the background, even when she didn't know it. Perhaps ... it was time she did the same.

Bex clutched the note against her chest and sighed in defeat.

As much as it pained her, the citizens of Panem needed to know the vial implications of who Snow truly was. They already knew how he treated the Districts, but they no idea that winning the Games changed nothing for Victor. They expected Victors were loved and put on pedestals when it was quite the opposite. Victors were just as much as minions as everyone else.

Bex couldn't cower away just because she was afraid of the repercussions. She wasn't a coward. She'd _never_ be a coward.

Her head swung to the clock on the wall. They were probably shooting already, or just getting ready. Was it useless to change her mind now? They had such limited time.

 _Cressida and the others are waiting by the exit_ , Coin had said.

And suddenly, the note was falling to the floor. Bex shut her door and charged down the stairs to the exit, leaving her room looking like a war zone. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. They ached, and a sharp pain made its way down her healing spine, but she pressured on, refusing to back down.

She needed to do this. _They_ needed to do this. No one else could.

Getting to the exit felt like forever, full of twists and turns in every direction. Coin made sure no one could figure their way out, it seemed, but Bex remembered the way. After getting to the ground floor, she went east down a long series of hallways, until she ended on a large metal door cracked open. As she shoved it open, the bright, blinding lights from Cressida's equipment hit her like a tidal wave.

Bex sighed under her breath as she stood on top of a pile of rubble. Finnick was just a few feet away, standing in the middle of a bed of white roses. The same place where her brother had been found, chained, holding on for dear life. Her whole body went rigid.

"Bex," Finnick called instantly. She blinked, shifting out of her thoughts.

Phoenix had been fixing his hair, but spun around quickly at the mere mention of his Victor's name. He grinned big, even though all he could see was her shadowed silhouette. Cressida turned away from the camera and squinted her eyes, trying to see through the blackness.

"I want to do the propo," Bex said, finally stepping into the light. "Is there still a chance I can join in?"

Cressida smiled. "Always a chance. Stand on Finnick's right, and remember to hold hands." She then glanced towards her team. "I want a wide shot that exposes their joined hands before going in tighter. Sound good?"

Bex exhaled heavily, expelling whatever fear that tried clawing up her throat, and stood next to Finnick. His whole body relaxed once she was near. His eyes went soft as one of the techs fixed a bright strobe on her. Phoenix quickly moved away from Finnick and gained Bex's attention. He sighed with relief while tucking a few stray hairs behind her ears and fixing her collar.

"You always come through, Flower Girl. I gotta hand it to you." He said, grinning at the same time as her. "Happy to hear your brother is okay too."

"Thank you," she whispered, just as Cressida asked him to get out of the shot. Bex closed her eyes then and took in a deep breath. When she opened them, however, she found her hand clasped around Finnick's. Her eyes averted to his.

"I'm glad to be doing this beside you. I wouldn't want it any other way," he muttered. "And I'm sorry for fighting with you. It was wrong for me to argue with you on why you didn't want to do this."

Bex was choked up. Her head emptied of any words she could say. She wet the corners of her lips before replying, "The dust has settled. I don't want to fight with you either."

Without taking his hand from hers, Finnick knelt down in the bed of roses, picked one up, and carefully placed it behind her right ear. "I want them to see your symbol," he explained softly, and then smiled. Bex was always in awe at how such a simple expression could make her insides do flip-flops. "So they know that even the Capitol's Flower Girl can be a rebel leader."

"Perfect!" Cressida says from behind the camera. The two Victors were brought out of their moment and turned back to face the film crew. "Are you guys ready?"

They both nodded. Bex's ears began to ring, and a strange ticking sound emerged from the back of her ear. She rubbed at them, hoping it was just nerves, until the noise slowly faded. Her head jolted up when she realized Cressida was speaking again. Everything around her suddenly felt tuned out.

"Pollux, stand with me. We're going straight to camera, okay?" Cressida waited for a response. Everyone nodded their heads. She then looked back to the Victors, speaking as gentle as she could, "Take your time. Just remember to keep talking and don't stop."

Bex's hands were getting ridiculously sweaty, but Finnick didn't loosen his hold.

Cressida counted down with her fingers. Bex felt her cheeks heat up. She wasn't sure if she could do –

The red light on the cameras blinked on.

Bex turned to Finnick immediately, but he was already talking. His face was a mask of calm, while his voice remained grave and serious.

"This is Finnick Odair from District Four. Winner of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games." He looked to her, eyebrows raised, but she was utterly speechless.

Bex swung her head towards the camera. Her mouth opened and her tongue went dry. She could faintly see Cressida's silhouette making hand gestures for her to say something. For someone who had been in front of the camera for years, this felt like the first time ever. The pressure was building up inside of her. So much was riding on this.

She cleared her throat and choked out, "And – um – you may know me as –" She took a deep breath. "You may know me as Bex Nassar from District Seven. Winner of the sixty-seventh Games."

Finnick praised her silently with a gentle tug to her hand, and then turned back to the camera. "We're coming to you from District Thirteen, alive and well. We've just survived an assault from the Capitol."

Bex swallowed hard as the ticking sound emerged again. She scratched at the back of her ear and ignored it. Her nerves were tricking her.

"But we're not here tonight to give you recent news," she continued. "Instead, we've come to tell you about the man currently in power, and a ploy he's hidden from you all since the start of his presidency."

"Also the truth behind the myths of a life of luxury, the lie about bringing glory for your homeland. You _can_ survive the arena. Bex and I are living proof of it. But the moment you leave, you're a servant." Finnick's stare flickered to hers. "President Snow used to sell us – or our bodies, at least."

Bex nodded along with him. They both turned to face the lens as it zoomed in on them. "And we weren't alone. Some of your favorite Victors were involved in this scheme to keep us in line after winning."

She took in a sharp breath and squeezed his hand before proceeding, "If a Victor is considered desirable, the President will give them as a reward or allow people to buy them for a large amount of money. They would be paid for their services, but the price costs more than just money; it takes things from you that you can never get back. If said Victor refuses, President Snow kills someone they love. When I was first presented with the offer, I declined, even after his threats. I believed I was untouchable as a Victor. _I wasn't._ He ripped my parents away from me. So I did it. This is the tragic backstory that most Victors have in regards to Snow's prostitution ring."

"Like Bex said, we weren't the only ones," Finnick agreed, "but we were the most popular. And perhaps, the most defenseless, because the people we love were so defenseless. To make themselves feel better, my patrons, in particular, would make presents of money or jewelry, but I found a much more valuable form of payment. _Secrets._ "

Bex's brow knitted together as she stared at Finnick, completely focused on his tale. Her payments had always been made in cash. She hadn't concocted a scheme to get back at Snow, because, despite her attitude, she was always _too afraid_ of Snow. Finnick wasn't. He was braver than anyone she'd ever known.

She rubbed at her earlobe when the ticking got louder. She groaned internally and pushed it away, wishing her anxiety would subside. Bex gazed at Finnick intently, hoping to revert her attention back to him.

"I know all the depravity, the deceit, and the cruelty of the Capitol's pampered citizens. But the biggest secrets are about our good president, Coriolanus Snow. Such a young man when he rose to power. Such a clever one to keep it. _How_ , you must ask yourself, _did he do it?_ One word. That's all you really need to know." He paused for the shortest second. " _Poison_."

Bex couldn't ignore the ticking anymore. It was louder with each passing second. How was it possible she was the only one hearing it? When she turned her head, Castor and Messalla were looking up at the sky with narrowed eyes, but neither of them said a word. The ticking was echoing in her ears now and caused her eye to twitch. She squinted as the lights became too blinding.

"He stopped every mutiny before it even started," Finnick said, unaware of the conflict brewing in Bex's head. Her grip had gone tight, but he thought nothing of it. He followed Cressida's instructions. "There were so many mysterious deaths to adversaries, even to allies who were threats. People dropping dead at a feast or slowly, inexplicably declining into shadows over a period of months. Blamed on bad shellfish, elusive viruses, or an overlooked weakness in the aorta. Snow would drink from the same cup to deflect suspicion, but antidotes don't always work, which is why he wears roses that reek of perfume. Helps cover the scent of blood from the sores in his mouth that will never heal."

Bex blinked rapidly. The ticking was overwhelming her ears, even all of her senses, and she knew she wasn't crazy. It was real. It had to be somewhere near them. She tossed her head around and looked towards their feet.

Finnick muttered, "But you can't hide the scent of who he really is." He paused suddenly, raising a brow. He turned his head as Bex did. His face was a blanket of confusion. Bex wondered if he heard the ticking too, but she couldn't voice it. She squeezed his hand for an answer, but he quickly looked back at the camera.

From behind it, Cressida was whispering to Pollux, " _What_ is she looking for?"

Finnick cleared his throat, "Snow kills without mercy. He rules with deception and fear –"

"CUT!"

Bex was surprised that the word came out of her own mouth. And once she said it, she didn't stop. She repeated the word over and over again, panic flashing in her eyes, as she waved her hands in the air.

"Cut? No!" Cressida exclaimed. "No, 'Cut!' Castor, Pollux, _do not_ –"

"Don't you _hear it_?!" Bex asked, glancing down at the bed of roses at her feet. She bent down and began to search through the pile of petals and rocks. "No, we have to _cut_. Cressida, _please_ , just cut!"

Cressida groaned, "Fine," as Bex continued to search on the ground. Finnick was calling her name, but it sounded like an echo. She was completely focused on the task at hand, enough to finally see a light in between the roses, hidden beneath the rocks. It was flashing repeatedly, taunting her. That was where the ticking was coming from. It was clear as day now.

She crawled over and threw the roses out of her way. A small black canister sat in the rubble, flickering a small, red light. The Capitol insignia was printed on its side.

But it was not just a light or a ticking. It couldn't be –

"It's a bomb," she whispered. Bex immediately got to feet, looking to Finnick, and then the film team. "We have to get out of here. _That's_ a bomb." She jabbed her finger towards the canister, tugging Finnick back.

Cressida lowered her camera, eyes widening. She stepped backward. "A _what_?!"

Bex raised her hands. " _A BOMB_ –"

That was when the blast went off, obliterating much of what was left in the circles of roses. All those white petals burnt to a crisp. Snow had wanted to turn her armor to ash.

Bex had jumped just in time to shield Finnick, knocking her head against a rock in the process. Cressida was yanking on her team's hands and yelling at Messalla to grab Bex and bring her to safety. Bex, for what seemed like the hundredth time, allowed her vision to fade into a pit of darkness. She felt like she was drowning against the ringing in her ears, but she could only make out a simple cry.

Finnick, hauling her towards the exit, screamed for dear life, "Bex, are you with me?!"

 _Yes_ , she thought, _always_.

And they had still fulfilled their duties, because later that night, the Victors had been rescued, unscathed. President Coin announced it to a rowdy audience, hands in the air as she proclaimed, "Today is our new beginning. Today we have freed the victors. Tomorrow: Panem!"

 _But at what cost?_ Katniss Everdeen wondered as an unconscious Bex Nassar was rushed toward the hospital.


	51. PLAYED FOR FOOLS

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

#####  **__________________________**

**_  
3 WEEKS LATER_ **   
  


**BEX** felt an intense throbbing in her temples as soon as she opened her eyes. They fluttered for a moment, squinting, before closing again. The lights brightening the room were almost too intense. She didn't understand it, and no matter how many times she attempted to look, her mind begged her not to. The throbbing traveled down to her closed lids and felt like a pumping heart.

And then she heard a familiar voice say, "You're awake. Gods, you're awake."

Bex had been rubbing at her nose when the person spoke. Her hand felt numb and she could just feel the pads of her fingers. As soon as the words were released, her eyes shot open. She then squinted again and turned to see Finnick on her right.

He looked like he hadn't slept in days. His face was lined with worry; his crystal clear eyes were bloodshot from dry tears. In one of his hands was a knotted rope. He gripped her hand in the other. She pursed her lips, too awestruck to say a word, and swung her head around the room. She was back in the hospital, sitting comfortably in a cot.

She felt like retching. Nausea clawed up her throat from the bright lights. Bex closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples, but she still hardly felt a thing. Pointing to the light switch beside him, she asked, "Can you turn that down?"

He quickly got up and turned the switch down low. A dark orange hue engulfed the room as he sat back down, refusing to leave her side. Bex blinked and felt the nausea drift away, but the pounding in her head would not cease.

"Thanks," she exhaled, and then her brow knitted. "Am I still in Thirteen?"

He nodded, holding her hand tighter. "Yes. You're lucky to be alive. We all are."

Her stare shifted and she looked off, memories flashing through her head. They were doing a propo ... and then there was the ticking ... and she got Cressida to cut ... and then she found the –

"There was a bomb," she whispered, looking back at him. "A bomb went off as we were filming that propo –"

"I'm surprised you even remember after what happened. You saved me."

She felt the IV in her left arm tug a little as she sat up and adjusted her pillows. "How long have I been out?"

She watched the way he swallowed hard. Finnick muttered, "It depends. You've been in and out of consciousness for about three weeks, but this is the most you've talked."

Her eyes went wide. "Three weeks?!"

"Bex, you hit your head on a bunch of rocks. You suffered an extreme brain injury." He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "You were unconscious for ten days. They suspected a coma, or it was your body's immediate reaction to trauma. But then you woke up during a CT scan, and they discovered swelling in your brain. They sedated you immediately and you had to go through two surgeries for them to stop the swelling."

She arched a single brow and touched her forehead. "I feel ... a little nauseous, but ..." She shook her head. "I think I'm fine."

"You're not fully recovered, but you're functioning at least." Finnick got to his feet. "I should go tell a nurse that you're awake –"

A gasp escaped her lips. Bex yanked on his hand before it could slip away, and he stopped in his tracks. When she looked down, she noticed the various scratches and bruises etched on his knuckles and exposed skin. "Is this from the bomb?"

"No, I ..." He averted his eyes. "I wasn't here for your two surgeries. I was just informed of them yesterday when I got back." A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and just a simple expression made the anxiety in her stomach diminish. "You kinda missed a lot when your brain was all swollen."

She cocked her head to the side. "Tell me."

"I have to get a nurse." He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

"Then make it brief.”

Finnick chuckled before sitting back down on his stool. "I don't know if I can."

Once he started talking, Bex could see why he struggled with keeping it concise. So much had happened over a short time span. Finnick went on to explain how Thirteen has successfully returned the Victors from the Capitol, how Peeta Mellark's mind was severely hijacked from Snow's torture, and their methods to recover his memories that were buried. He told her about joining the ranks of Squad 451 and his journey into the Capitol with Katniss. They had gone with fourteen people in their group and managed to take over the city with only Katniss, Peeta, Gale, and him left, as well as half of Cressida's film team. They had been so close to getting to Snow, if it weren't for the explosives that he sent. Bombs disguised as sponsor gifts rained down in front of the President's mansion, killing so many Capitol children, and then there was the second wave that murdered their own rebel medics.

But they still took over the Capitol. The rebels won. It was a tale fit for a hero – the rebellion's heroes.

Bex almost didn't believe it. His words were like something out of a story. But his scars and wounds were evidence of all that he'd been through. And he was still _here_ , holding her hand.

"I almost didn't make it out alive," he said, "but there was one thing pushing me forward."

The smirk playing at his lips made her frown. "Don't say it was me," she groaned.

"Well, it was. Deal with it." He rubbed the back of his neck and giggled. When his laughter died down, he reached out and played with a stray strand of hair in front of her face. "I just ... I wanted to get back to you. We're free now."

Once those words left his lips, Bex couldn't help but feel an automatic weight lift off her shoulders. President Snow wasn't gone yet, but his reign of terror was. They could be _people_ again. Not Victors, not the Golden Boy and Flower Girl, just _people_. They had freedom.

Bex brushed her numb fingers over his cheeks, simply relishing in him being so close. They leaned in at the same time and their noses grazed. Bex could already taste him from just skimming her lips over his. And just as Finnick edged to close the gap, a shout resonated from the doorway.

"YOU'RE AWAKE!"

The two Victors immediately separated, and Bex whirled around to see her brother, cast on his right arm and bandage stuck to his nose, standing in the doorframe of her room. She chuckled when he started limping over to her, flailing his arms, and then he was barreling into her. They embraced tightly for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

_This was what freedom would be like._

#####  **__________________________**

A week passed with nurses monitoring her every move, checking her vitals each hour. Finnick hardly left her side except when he worked his shifts in the evenings. Eventually, Bex had been brought into another CT scan. The morning she was informed of it, her palms were drenched with sweat and fear plagued her insides. She was terrified to know what the results would be. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck inside for any longer.

The process took about twenty minutes, and only an hour later, her nurse relayed the good news. The physicians had found no new swelling in her brain. Despite the numbness still fading in her fingertips and the slight sensitivity to light, Bex was functionally normally. "You're still recovering though. Even your back suffered a little during the fall. It'll be a while – maybe a few months – until you're fully okay again," the nurse explained, wiping sweat off her brow. "You Victors seem to have good luck. Not many people would survive a head injury like that."

Bex would beg to differ. She didn't deliver a rebuttal though; she was just excited to finally leave in one piece.

She wasn't given a clean jumpsuit on the day of her release. Bex had raised a brow at the clothing choices waiting for her at the end of her bed: a dark, green turtleneck with gold glitter woven into the fabric, alongside a black jacket and pants. A note sat on top from Phoenix with the words, _Shine on, Flower Girl_ , written in his own personal scribbles. The outfit was suspicious, but she didn't think much of it and pulled it right on.

Keaton was waiting for her and walked her out, arm in arm. He looked so much better now: his face had filled back in, his bruises were almost healed, and his hair was cut back to its normal short style. He still winced whenever he walked and held onto his chest, where one of his ribs had been removed, but he was still _better_. That was all she could've asked for.

Bex sighed happily. It felt good to lean on him for balance. She was still healing and a little woozy. This was the most walking she'd done in weeks, but she knew she could always lean on her older brother in any situation. He'd do it willingly.

Her body also gyrated with excitement. It was around noontime, which meant Finnick was already taking his lunch in the mess hall. She couldn't wait to surprise him and hug him to her heart's content. She wanted to kiss him like a normal person, feel his arms around her without the fear of someone seeing. They could do anything they pleased now that Snow was no longer in power.

At the end of the hall, waiting in front of the elevator, was Plutarch Heavensbee.

Bex knew this couldn't be good. Her heart sank deep in her chest.

As they approached, Bex tried to tug on her brother's arm and make a beeline around the Gamemaker. But he stopped her by holding up a hand and laid it flat against her arm. It was a calming gesture, but Bex still didn't like it. Her brow narrowed as she shoved it off.

"I need you to pack a bag," he said gently, ignoring her aggression.

She released a fake laugh. "No best wishes? I did wake up from a severe brain injury, you know because I did one of _your propos_."

"You know I never do anything to put you in harm's way. It was an oversight. I never thought something like that would happen," he replied. "I swore on my life that I would help you, Bex."

Her nostrils flared. She kept her mouth in a thin line, not saying a word, and looked to her brother, who was just as stunned as she was. Finally, Bex huffed, "Well, I can't pack a bag right now. I'm going to see Finnick."

She attempted to walk around him, but again, he stopped her. "Don't worry, he'll be going with you." Plutarch smiled kindly. "President Coin is requesting your presence in the Capitol with the rest of the Victors to witness Snow's trial and execution. You'll be staying at his old mansion for a few days."

Bex grimaced. "I'd rather not."

"C'mon, Bex, make it easier on me." He quirked a brow. "It's your _President's_ order, remember? Not mine, if that makes you feel any better."

 _It_ _doesn't_ , she thought.

Bex closed her eyes for a moment, sighed heavily, and then glanced at her brother. She remembered all the times he would scream and rage at her for leaving on Capitol business, but this time, Keaton beamed. Because now, he didn't have to worry if she would come back. President Snow was practically dead by this point, and his younger sister was safe.

Keaton patted her shoulder. "Do what you need to, sis. I'll stay back here." Before she could pull him back, he was already slipping out of her grip and walking to the elevator. He gave Plutarch a curt nod before exiting.

Once the elevator shot away, Bex turned to Plutarch with a deep frown. "I just got out of the hospital and Coin already wants me on Victor duty?" She crossed her arms. "Reminds me of Snow's persistence."

"Don't be like _that_ ," he replied.

Bex was still glaring.

Plutarch finally sighed and lowered his voice, "If we're being honest, I don't exactly agree with it either. But ..." He pointed to the elevator arriving back down with his thumb. "Can you _please_ pack a bag? A hovercraft is waiting to leave."

She groaned before walking away. Perhaps Plutarch was right. Now wasn't the time to be difficult, seeing as she finally got the one thing she'd been praying for all these years. But she couldn't silence the voice in the back of her head questioning Coin's ways. As she stuffed her duffle bag with clothes conveniently laid out in her pod by Phoenix, she wondered if Thirteen's President planned to take over all of Panem once Snow was gone.

Bex didn't quite think that was so out of character for her.

After descending several flights of stairs to the ground floor, she tugged her duffle bag to the hangar. There was no one at the entrance of the hovercraft to greet her. She was so used to seeing Bogs, but it seemed he hadn't made it out alive with Squad 451. Her face drained of color at the realization, and she hoped it wasn't that apparent as she entered the hovercraft.

"You're here."

Suddenly, Bex was elated again at the sight of Finnick Odair. His dimples were on full display for her, sending her stomach into knots. She grinned big and sat in the open seat on his left. Strapping herself in, she scanned the rest of the Victors already seated.

Beetee sat in his wheelchair on Finnick's right, strapped to the wall. Annie and Johanna were in the seats across from them. Enobaria was present, sitting on the far end of the hovercraft, away from everyone else. She looked livelier than Bex currently was, but her eyes lacked the normal viciousness. Keaton said her teeth had been plucked out too. No wonder she was keeping her lips in the sealed, thin line.

Everyone was there besides the Victors from Twelve. Bex assumed they might already be in the Capitol. Katniss was probably going to be the star of the execution, but Peeta may not be attending because he was still recovering from the hijacking. Bex was recovering as well, but no one seemed to really care that much. She scoffed internally at Coin's demands.

It took longer than normal to fly to the Capitol, due to the weather. They landed right in front of the gates of Snow's mansion – now _their_ home for the next few days. The ground was covered in a blanket of snow. Bex almost mistook it for ash.

When the Victors walked out with their bags, they journeyed across the frozen lawn to the mansion. Finnick put his arm around Bex's shoulders and she reached up to grip his hand tightly as the cold overtook her. They tried scrambling to the mansion as quickly as they could, but they were careful not to slip on the ice covering the stairs that led to the front door.

Bex looked up at one point and saw the window Snow liked to look out from at parties, where he would watch his attendees. He could observe everyone up there. It was a perfect vantage point to see if everything was going as planned, if his Victors were staying in line. So many times had she met his eyes from up there and felt totally penetrated by his intense stare. Bex shivered now, but she wasn't sure if it was from the cold.

As the Victors finally stepped inside the mansion, they were immediately greeted by a friendly face. Bex recognized her as Commander Paylor from District Eight. She watched a few of Plutarch's real-time propos, where the commander had been seen on the frontlines of District Eight's revolt. Paylor almost looked too young for her occupation. Her dark, youthful eyes matched her even darker hair. She shook each of the Victors' cold hands as they entered, introducing herself.

"I'm very happy that you all came out for this. I realize how troubling it is to still have to come to the Capitol, but your presence is truly needed." She said, raising her gloved hands to the two staircases enveloping the large foyer. "There are many rooms available on the second floor to accommodate you all during your stay. President Coin and I will be in touch when we need you. Thank you, Victors."

Bex stepped over to the left staircase, following Finnick's lead, when Commander Paylor said, "Miss Nassar?"

She turned her head without hesitation. Even Finnick stopped at the first step.

"Can you take a walk with me, please?"

"Um – sure," Bex murmured, glancing at Finnick with a muddled expression.

He smiled and lifted the strap of her duffle onto his shoulders. She didn't even need to ask. "I'll take this," he offered, "and we'll meet up later."

She nodded, hesitating with nerves, before turning on her heel and trailing Paylor. The commander took her in between the two staircases, leading her towards the center of the mansion, where a long, dining table sat. In all her years visiting the Capitol, Bex had never seen anything so posh and extravagant. If you were rich, it could really go a long way.

Who was going to inhabit this place now? _Coin?_

"It's good to meet you, Miss Nassar," Paylor said softly, bringing Bex out of her thoughts. Her eyes flickered to the commander immediately.

"You, too, Commander," she replied. "Plutarch spoke nothing but the best of your work in Eight. I saw you in the propos."

Paylor grinned, flashing her teeth. "I heard you survived a bomb attack. I'm very glad to see you're okay."

Bex stiffened for a moment at the memory. "So am I," she frowned. "If you don't mind me asking, Commander Paylor. What is it exactly you need me for?"

"It's not what I need you for," Paylor paused. "It's someone else."

They halted in front of a large window pane, and in the center of that, a glass door with a gold trim. Bex looked out at the broad view of Snow's illustrious backyard, where she once danced the night away with men she didn't know and eventually took back to a hotel, where she always allowed her freedom to die. This place used to be decorated with strobe lights and fancy dinner placements and Avoxes in ornate makeup looks. Now it was simply covered with snow. How fitting.

Bex narrowed her eyes, stepping closer to the glass. She could already feel the cold radiating from it. Rubbing at the foggy window, she finally noticed the large greenhouse sitting on the right side of the yard, tucked away in the corner. Bex had never seen it before, not even at Snow's parties. Heaps of snow and ice crystals adorned the roof, while two guards stood outside the perimeter.

"Who's inside that?" She asked, finding her voice.

"We're keeping Snow there for the time being. He asked for it, to be with his most prized possessions before his trial." Paylor exhaled through her nose. "He's asked to speak with you."

Bex turned to the commander with a knitted brow. "Why?"

"Hell, if I know," she muttered, looking out at the greenhouse. Paylor then gripped the Victor's shoulder and squeezed. "It's your choice. You don't have to see him, but if you do, know that the guards will not hesitate to protect you. You're completely safe here, Miss Nassar. You're free."

Bex looked back out at the greenhouse, watching the tiny droplets of slush gather on the glass roof. She shivered from the cold as it called out to her, begging her to go out there, but she was immobile. She hardly wanted to move.

A beat of silence passed. Commander Paylor's eyes averted to Bex as she swallowed hard. Finally, the Victor tugged on the gold handle and walked out into the freezing winter.

She walked slowly towards the wide building, hesitating with every step. The snow made it hard to walk, even with her boots, and her piercing anxiety wasn't exactly helping either. It pleaded for her to go back, run away, find Finnick. But the bitter cold had a voice of its own, and it sang to her. She couldn't just stop now. She had to keep moving forward.

The guards were already opening the doors as she neared them. Bex formed her hands into fists and stomped forward. She looked over her shoulder, spotting Paylor in the window as she nodded towards her. Bex faced the greenhouse again, and with a nod of her own, ventured inside.

She almost jumped as the doors shut behind her. Bex slowly proceeded inside the greenhouse, careful of every step. The air wasn't as cold as outside, but she wasn't exactly warm either. She scanned the building, but all she could find were white rose bushes around every corner. Some even wrapped around the pillars and reached towards the ceiling. It all looked so ... hauntingly magical.

Bex approached the first bush in the center. She plucked a blossoming white rose. The petals were as soft as the skin of a peach, and the color looked so pure and crisp as if nothing bad had ever touched it. Bex sighed longingly, remembered when Iliana used to say how beautiful they looked against her dark hair.

"Remember when those roses were all that you used to wear?"

Bex almost dropped the flower as she turned abruptly at the voice. Snow appeared from behind a tall bush and hobbled over to the fountain that sat in the middle of the greenhouse. He marveled at the water spurting out from the fish statue before sitting down on the white brick edge.

She didn't say a word.

"Iliana's idea, I heard," he continued, huffing as he took a seat. "To connect us. Such a clever stylist, always good at her job."

Bex pursed her lips. "You killed her for it."

Snow shook his head. "Well, what was I supposed to _do_ , Miss Nassar? Allow her to continue using floral imagery to hint at my demise? You and I, and even Iliana, knew how that would end." He paused, the ghost of a smile appearing on his wrinkled lips. "I'm glad you found your way here to speak with me. It was one of my dying wishes."

He then ripped a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his silk robe, coughing violently into it. As he set it down on his lap, Bex couldn't help her interest and peered over. The delicate fabric was spotted with deep crimson. She swallowed hard. Was Finnick's claim about the mouth sores really true?

She lifted her eyes to find his already pinned on her. "You once said that the Capitol has always given me so much. I thought it was time to return the sentiment for a few minutes." Bex twirled the rose in her hands and stepped forward. "Or maybe it was just morbid curiosity."

Snow tilted his head to the side, studying her fake smirk for a short second. He could see behind it. Even at his old age, he was still the cleverest in the room. Bex's mouth formed in a line.

"I must say ..." He finally muttered. "I am very sorry for all the hurt I caused you in this war –"

The rage inside of her was explosive. It only took seconds to bubble towards the surface, and venom was suddenly spilling from her mouth: " _You_ kept my parents imprisoned for _years_ and finally killed them when you captured my brother –"

"But I did warn you, didn't I? I asked if you wanted to be in a real war, Miss Nassar, and you gave me no answer. A real war was what you received."

"I don't forgive you. Whatever you say holds no merit." She scoffed and directed the rose at him. "I used to think that you just hated all the Districts, and you know what? I get it. I would hate the people who tried to overthrow me too. But you killed your own _kin_. I was told you killed _Capitol children_ and _citizens_. How can you even look yourself in the mirror?"

"How can _you_ have an opinion on an event where you were not present?" He smiled the tiniest bit. "You weren't on the front lines. How do you know what's the truth?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Because Finnick was there and I believe what he told me."

"Mr. Odair didn't even realize what was happening when those bombs dropped. One after the other. Neither did Miss Everdeen. It was so wasteful, so ... unnecessary."

The rose in Bex's hand lowered to her side. Her brow arched inquisitively, but her mouth refused to utter a word.

Snow looked off. "Anyone could see the game was over by that point. I was even going to issue an official surrender when they released those parachutes."

"They? It was _you_ ," she accused.

"I'm not above killing children, but I am _never_ wasteful. I take life for specific reasons. There was no reason for me to kill all those Capitol citizens. They weren't rebelling against me. Why would I kill them?" He coughed again, this time into his sleeve. Blood began to stain his teeth. "It was a masterful move on Coin's part. _You know_ , dropping the bombs in a Capitol hovercraft. And then the second explosives going off minutes later, killing her own medics. _Very_ _calculative_. It turned the last of my guards against me. Do you know it aired live? There's a particular savvy in that, isn't there?"

Bex's jaw clenched. She couldn't believe it. His words held no truth; they never would.

"You're lying," she whispered.

"Why would I go to the effort of doing that on my death bed?" He raised a white brow. "I think my failure was ... in being so slow to grasp her plan. Make no mistake – she intends to take my place now. These things happen in war."

Her teeth ground together. "Are you trying to play me for a fool? I've spent the last eight years analyzing your tricks and moves. I know when you're scheming. If you mean to make me believe that Coin was the one to drop the bombs, I'm not having it. She's the leader of the rebels –"

"And rebellions, my dear, _always_ end in death. More death than we account for. Presidents are most likely to commit war crimes ... because we _know_ we can get away with it. I should know. " He looked at her again. His shoulders sagged as he sighed. "This is no scheme, and I mean you no disservice. Not anymore."

Bex couldn't take her eyes away from his. They were so beady, so bright, as if the irises were made of pure ice. Her free hand formed into a fist as she contemplated what to say. But there was nothing. A part of her ... _believed him_. Maybe a part of her already came to the conclusion.

"Alas ..." He cleared his throat, eyes narrowing on her. "I had been watching young Katniss Everdeen this whole time, and you all ... you had been watching me. We were distracted. I'm afraid we've _all_ been played for fools, Miss Nassar."

She swallowed hard and looked down at the rose in her hands. It still looked so delicate and pure in her hands. It was the juxtaposition that had her reeling. Being recognized as the Flower Girl all these years, symbolized through white roses and beautiful purity, when she was actually a killer. The same hands that held these flowers and shook people's hands also killed children. No matter how many roses were placed in her hair, she'd never be a saint.

And no matter how many he placed on his lapel, Snow wouldn't be one either.

Maybe they had more in common than she thought. After all, they were fools together now.

Bex lifted her head and strode over to the elderly man. He didn't move; he simply watched her from his seat on the fountain. She reached out and dropped the rose on his lap. It landed on his bloody handkerchief, staining the white petals a gruesome red.

"Have a nice rest of your life, Snow," she whispered before walking out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So regarding the time jump lol ... I'm sorry about cutting out the last part of "Mockingjay"/the siege against the Capitol, but I have my reasons! We all know exactly what happens in the siege on the Capitol and Snow's capture, and it's very much centered on Katniss and her journey. I really didn't want to take that away from Katniss and her development, so I decided to leave Bex out of it. Plus, I don't think Bex would've wanted to join Squad 451 anyway lmao, after what she experienced during the visit to her own District. it would've been pretty boring to just have her around Thirteen. so that's why I did the time jump! She also wouldn't have been able to heal from a brain injury very fast, so I thought this was a good route for the story.
> 
> There are only 2 chapters left! These last few chapters will all deal with the end of "Mockingjay," Snow's trial, and how it all ends. I hope you guys are as excited as I am!


	52. AN ALTERNATIVE PLAN

#### ACT III: THE EMBERS

##### CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

#####  **__________________________**

**FINNICK** and Bex shared one of Snow's largest guest rooms all to themselves. Even in the wide, king-sized bed with satin sheets, she could hardly get a wink of sleep. She pressed her head into the pillow, squeezed her eyes shut, even hurdled herself into the confines of Finnick's arms. Nothing was ever enough though. She was kept awake by the shadows of her own mind.

Snow's words haunted her, echoing in her ears like a chant. She couldn't stop thinking about what he said in that greenhouse. Bex already knew he was charismatic, but she never thought his tricks would work on her. He was just trying to get in her head, and it was _working_. His words made sense. Why _would_ he kill all those Capitol citizens? He was _never_ wasteful – this she knew for certain.

Believing him felt like a foolish decision, but perhaps, she had been the fool all along.

Eventually, she'd been able to get some sleep. Finnick had woken up sometime during the night, and despite her killer acting, he knew that Bex still wasn't asleep as she pressed herself against his chest. Once he started humming in her ear and caressing her hair, she was out like a light. Sometimes even the simplest of gestures were able to silence her loud thoughts.

Bex rolled over on her side when the sun began to filter through the cracks in their curtains. She rested her chin on top of Finnick's bare, freckled chest as his eyes began to flutter, teasing her with a small glimpse of ocean green. He rubbed at his lids before fully opening them. A grin quickly made its way onto his lips at the sight of Bex laying on top of him. He wound his arms around her waist and chuckled, "This is what I want to wake up to every morning."

She smiled softly. "Good morning."

He repeated it back to her before craning his head forward and pressing his mouth to hers. It was a sweet kiss – hardly innocent, but gentle enough. It made her heart thunder against her rib cage and her insides turn to goo, even on a day like today, where things were bound to wrong. They were here for an execution after all.

"And good morning, Victors!"

Bex immediately moved away and fell on her side as she heard the doors to their suite opened. Phoenix now stood in front of them in a flashy, neon yellow suit with a sequined trim, hands in the air at his own arrival. Finnick sat up and placed a hand behind his shaking head. With a chuckle, he muttered, "I knew I didn't lock those doors last night."

"Phoenix," Bex said, beaming wide. She got to her knees and crawled over to the edge of the bed, where her stylist was waiting with open arms. She embraced him tightly and leaned back. "I didn't know you were invited here."

His brow shot up. "You think I would miss Snow's execution? I've hated that old man for _years_."

Finnick got to his feet and walked over to the stylist, embracing him quickly. "Good to see you're well, Phoenix."

"Same to you, Mr. Odair." Phoenix leered towards Bex for a moment before clapping his hands together. "I've come to you with business, sadly. President Coin wishes to speak with you both."

Bex and Finnick furrowed their brows. They nodded at Phoenix's request, despite their confusion. The stylist gave them privacy to change. Bex pulled on a dark blue sweater, a pair of cargo pants, and the same boots and jacket from the day prior. As she brushed her hair back into a ponytail, she caught sight of Finnick yanking his head through a knitted, cream-colored turtleneck in the mirror. He paired it with a pair of taupe pants and fancy shoes. Bex bit her lip to hide her smile. He could honestly look good in anything.

Once they were finished, Phoenix led them downstairs to the first floor. They walked past the expansive kitchens and the water fountain in the foyer. Snow had even put up several different statues of himself in various corners of the house. Bex's mouth curled in disgust. Finnick chuckled softly at her expression, guiding her forward with a gentle hand on her back.

"Coin asked for all the Victors to meet in Snow's old conference room," Phoenix explained. "This was where he used to organize dinners with his allies and entourage. I would bet he killed people in this very room too."

 _How convenient_ , Bex thought.

Phoenix approached two large white doors and placed a hand on the golden handle. "Good luck," he whispered before opening the doors for them.

Walking inside felt like striding into the lion's den.

Everyone turned towards Finnick and Bex as they were led inside. Phoenix shut the doors behind them swiftly, careful of any onlookers. The rest of the Victors were scattered around the room, talking with grim expressions. Katniss was settling down in a chair next to Haymitch, who looked like he already had a drink in him since arriving in the Capitol. Even Annie was there, chewing on her bottom lip nervously.

"Hi," Bex blurted, a suspicious tone to her voice.

"Thank you for coming, Miss Nassar and Mr. Odair." President Coin stood by the head of the table and gestured to the open seats. Unlike the rest of them, she was wearing her normal grey attire, accompanied by a shorter haircut. "Won't you join us?"

Johanna smirked from her corner, raising her hands to mimic Coin. Bex sealed her mouth together and attempted to not laugh as she and Finnick sat down. Everyone else followed suit. Enobaria took the free seat on Bex's left and sent her a tight-lipped smile. She was careful to reveal any teeth.

"I have invited you all here for several reasons, but _first_..." Coin laced her hands together. "I have an announcement. I have taken the _burden_ and the _honor_ of declaring myself interim President of Panem."

Bex's brow pulled together. She looked to Finnick, who sent her a warning glance.

Haymitch broke the silence with a chuckle. " _Interim_? Exactly how long is that interim?"

"We have no way of knowing for certain." Coin narrowed her pale eyes. "But it's clear people are far-too emotional right now to make a rational decision. We'll plan an election when the time is right."

Katniss was glaring at Coin when she turned towards the teenager.

"The time is never going to be right, though," Bex muttered, crossing her arms. "People are going to live with this trauma for the rest of their lives. Everyone knows what happened. It aired _live on TV_."

Every Victor was looking at her like she was crazy. Even if Snow hadn't told her this, she wouldn't have been that surprised at this revelation.

Coin simply tilted her head to the side and studied Bex curiously.

"All I'm saying is that there will never be a good time." Bex raised her hands in surrender. "You need to plan an election. _Soon_."

"She's right," Peeta agreed, sitting up in his chair.

"In due time. _I promise_ ," Coin said. She stared at Bex for a second longer before getting back to her point. "But I have called you all here for a more important vote. A _symbolic_ vote.

"Tomorrow," she continued, "we will put Snow on trial. The courts are already in our favor. So I expect tomorrow evening, Snow will be executed. Hundreds of his accomplices also await their deaths: Capitol officials, Peacekeepers, Gamemakers. But the danger is once we begin, the rebels will not stop calling for retribution. The thirst for blood is a difficult urge to satisfy."

Johanna was smirking, as if she already knew where Coin was going. Bex narrowed her eyes in her friend's direction.

"I offer an alternative plan. A majority of five may approve it. No one may abstain." The President paused, pacing the room for her next words. "The proposal is this: in lieu of these ... barbaric executions, we hold a _symbolic_ Hunger Games."

Everyone's face went numb. Bex felt a shiver crawl up her spine, but besides that, she was as frozen as a statue. The small teacup in Haymitch's hands almost slipped from his grip. Johanna began to chuckle darkly and leaned her head back. "You ..." She scoffed, not believing it. "You want to have another Hunger Games with ... the _Capitol's children_?"

"Several of them just _died_ ," Bex seethed, "right outside these gates."

"You're joking," Peeta murmured.

Coin shook her head. "Not in the slightest."

"Is this ... _Plutarch's_ idea?" Haymitch asked.

Bex slowly slid her gaze back to Coin. If it was ... she might just bash his nose in.

"It was mine," Coin admitted.

 _New nose for you then_ , Bex thought viciously. She then looked towards Katniss, hoping for something – a word, a grimace – from the precious Mockingjay. But the young girl was speechless. She looked like she was hardly fazed. Her grey eyes seemed glazed over; her entire expression went completely blank. She hardly moved a muscle. Her spine was rigid.

"This balances the need for revenge," Coin attempted to justify. "The least loss of human life."

"Still children," Finnick muttered. Bex looked over at him, realizing that was the first time he'd spoken in minutes. Like Katniss, he didn't know what to say.

Coin leaned in. "What was that, Mr. Odair?"

"I said, 'They're _still children_.'" Finnick replied without hesitation. "A loss is still a loss. No child deserves to die. No one deserves to suffer the same way the Districts did for years. I thought this all was supposed to end?"

The President sat back in her seat. She exhaled heavily through her nostrils. "You may cast your votes now."

"No," Beetee said immediately. "We need to stop viewing each other as enemies."

Johanna sat up. "I think it's more than fair. Snow's got a granddaughter. I say, yes."

Bex glanced at her friend, confusion etched across her face.

"Oh, don't look at me like _that_ , Bex," she scoffed before leaning into the table. "We've all suffered from nightmares for _years_ because of what we went through in our arenas. It's time the elite get a taste for it."

"I agree," Enobaria said, speaking for the first time. She did her best not to reveal her empty gums. Bex wondered if she'd ever get them fixed, or would she live with it as a reminder that she survived the worst. "Yes. They need to understand what we've lived through."

Peeta cleared his throat. "No. I won't allow history to repeat if I can help it. My vote is _no_."

"This way of thinking is what _started_ these uprisings," Annie whispered. "No."

"I'm with Annie. I vote no." Finnick spoke up, adjusting his position in his chair, but his arm never left Bex's shoulders. "So would Mags and I'm sure several of the other Victors that were thrust into that Quarter Quell."

Johanna shrugged. "Well, they _can't_ , because Snow killed them."

Bex chewed on her bottom lip. She thought she could taste blood, but it might've been her imagination tricking her. The table went silent as Coin turned to look at the last few votes.

"It's down to Haymitch, Bex, and Katniss," she muttered.

Bex slowly lifted her eyes, meeting Coin's from across the room. She noticed how the light of the fire behind her made the President look more menacing, as if she was cloaked in the darkness of her own shadow.

She understood then that the ruthlessness would never end. The Capitol's traditions for murder and abuse of power would only continue in Coin's reign. If she was in favor of holding another Hunger Games, of killing Capitol children ... then there could only be one person that dropped those bombs in front of Snow's gates. Bex swallowed hard.

Snow had been right.

"No," she finally uttered, "I cannot subject any more children to the torture I went through. Not even Snow's granddaughter."

Coin's eyes narrowed as they slid to Katniss and Haymitch. The teenaged girl was looking at her hands, chewing the inside of her cheek. After a moment, she realized everyone was staring at her and waiting for an answer. She cast a glance towards Haymitch, and then flickered her grey stare towards Peeta. She was eyeing him down, glaring at him, attempting to sway his choice.

Peeta exhaled and looked down. He muttered softly, "I change my vote. Yes."

"Peeta," Annie sighed, shocked. Haymitch didn't know what to do.

Katniss finally turned to Coin. Their eyes locked as Katniss said, "I get to kill Snow."

"I expect it no less of you," the President replied.

Katniss' jaw clenched. "Then I vote yes." She paused. "For Prim."

"Haymitch," Coin called, growing impatient.

The elder Victor had been resting his chin on his fists, but slowly sat up into a sitting position. Katniss swung her head and stared, urging him with a simple look.

 _Don't do it_ , Bex thought. _Don't_.

"I'm ..." Haymitch shook his head. "I'm with the Mockingjay."

Coin sat back, trying to hide the smile creeping up on her mouth. "That carries the vote. We'll announce the Games after the execution."

Bex turned to Katniss, surprised to find the young girl's eyes on her profile, as if they were sharing a secret. The secret about the bombs. Despite getting the results she wanted, Katniss looked anything but happy. Her lips were pulled down into a grim frown, her face etched with lines of pain and misery.

It became a staple in her expression. Katniss carried that same glower through Snow's trial, when she had to get up on the witness stand and testify against him. She frowned through every single testimony, through Atlas Pacuri's and other Capitol officials' statements. Even when the judge announced the guilty charge on Snow and his conspirators, Katniss was still frowning. Not a single execution could satisfy her.

As she walked down the long stretch of pavement to the heart of the Parade Center, drums banging with every step, Katniss didn't stray from her scowl. Her lips sealed in a very thin line and painted a neutral pink, while her eyes were decorated in black glitter and dark shadows. She was wearing her Mockingjay outfit, a black bow and arrow in hand. The Victors watched on from the sidelines with their hearts in their throats. Bex stood beside Finnick, holding his hand so tight that she was sure her wrist could break.

Katniss frowned as she nocked an arrow on her bow, aimed right for President Snow's jugular. He had been strapped to a wooden pole, coughing blood while red stained his teeth. Coin watched from the podium above – Snow's old spot – and waited with bated breath.

Finally, Katniss' lips pulled up into a sneer, and she lifted the tip of her arrow higher, letting it fly right into Coin's chest. The President gasped before tumbling from the podium and laying in a pool of her own blood.

The crowd turned into a riot. President Snow was cackling, blood dripping down into his white beard. Even as the rioters charged at him, tearing him apart, his laughter filled the stadium. Katniss was dragged away by her team, but she, too, couldn't stop herself from chuckling.

Their reign of terror was over now.

Bex looked over at Finnick as chaos erupted amongst them. With troubled eyes and a wary expression, she said, "I'll love you forever."


	53. PEACE

#### EPILOGUE

#####  **__________________________**

**_  
6 YEARS LATER_ **   
  


**PRESIDENT** Paylor had been commanding Panem peacefully for years. When there was no one left to lead after Coin's demise, the remaining Victors elected Paylor as President, and the citizens of Panem seemed to be happy with the choice since then. Unlike Alma Coin's plans, Paylor abolished the Hunger Games, had the old arenas dismantled, built memorials to all of the fallen tributes, and even pardoned Katniss for Coin's assassination, deeming her mentally unstable. She did so much in so little years, more than Snow had done in his twenty-five.

Along with Plutarch, who worked as her Secretary of Communications, they were able to establish that republic government the former Gamemaker had promised after the Capitol's defeat. Panem finally existed in a relative state of peace. But even years later, citizens still remained on the edge of their seats. They waited for the pin to drop, expecting the worst was yet to come, even in Paylor's blissful rule.

People still managed to find happiness, though, in the darkest of Districts and in the rubble of their own rebellion. The land would never be the same again, but some of the rebellion's survivors got together to salvage what was left of their Districts and gave the dead their proper burials. In Seven, trees were sprouted from where the deceased was buried, and survivors used the wood to rebuild homes and shops that were lost. They could never go back to normal, but at least they could make do with what they had.

Years later, Finnick Odair and Bex Nassar were married in what was left of District Seven. Bex had only agreed if they had a ceremony in the same spot her parents were married: in the woods behind their old shack. She was surprised that she was still able to find it, and completely untouched by the devastating bombs Snow had rained down on her District.

Phoenix had designed a gown reminiscent of her mother's own dress from old photos. It was made of all lace and silk with a wide, open V-neckline and long, lace sleeves. Phoenix had decorated lace across the neckline and skirt, and even placed a slit in those long sleeves. The train dragged at least two feet across the ground, and the veil – _oh_ , the veil. It was made from the same lace and framed her face so nicely. Her hair was left in delicate waves, spilling down the open-back of the dress.

Their vows were somewhat of a catastrophe. They did their best to mash their District's traditions together, but the ceremony was definitely more Seven than it was Four, and Finnick was more than okay with that. While he took the customary route of likening marriage to a sea voyage and their relationship to a thunderstorm, Bex compared their love to an evergreen tree that grew year-round – changing, but always growing back. Finnick slid her mother's emerald ring on her finger and the choice was sealed. They were never going back.

With the District Seven wedding song bringing everyone together, dancing with Finnick on that day felt like when they had danced in her living room all over again. He held her close, allowing her to rest her head on his bicep. This was what true peace felt like. Bex almost couldn't believe it as she scanned the grass, watching all her friends gather around. Johanna and Phoenix were dancing together, along with Annie and her husband. Keaton was sharing a beer with Plutarch, who managed to push aside his secretary duties for today and celebrate. Even Katniss and Peeta stopped by for a few hours. Bex had never seen more love in one place than that day.

She wished Nico could've been there, and her parents. Even Iliana. As well as any other innocent souls that were lost during Snow's reign. But they were all at peace now, just like Panem.

Despite her worry for Keaton, he urged her to move on from Seven. "It's time to see new places after all you've been through," he declared. Bex didn't want to, but she figured it was time to finally let Keaton be out on his own. The bombs hadn't touched the old Victors' Village, so at least he had a huge home to stay in. Maybe he'd find a partner someday and he could start a family. That manor held so much sorrow and fear. It deserved to be filled with a little happiness.

Finnick and Bex moved to District Four. After all these years, the District was only partly rebuilt from the bombings, but nothing could kill that beautiful ocean. They bought a refinished home by the water, where they were woken up by the sound of waves crashing against the sand every morning. Finnick liked to walked with her across the beach and even taught her how to swim. But sometimes, it was enough to simply stand by the shore, the water just reaching their ankles as their hands interlocked, just as they were currently.

Bex cupped a hand over her eyes as the morning sun rose over the horizon. Finnick looked over at her, eyes crinkling at the sides. He looked older now since they got their freedom. They were both now in their early thirties and it was starting to show on their faces. Finnick never seemed to care about his appearance now. He didn't need to keep himself looking younger for the strangers he used to pleasure. But he was still one of the most handsome men Bex had ever seen. 

She turned to him when she felt his stare on her and quirked a brow. "Yes?"

"What are you thinking about?" He asked, expression muddled.

She exhaled, "It's kind of depressing." Silence passed between them, drowned out by the gentle caress of the ocean. "Sometimes ... hearing the waves in the night gives me nightmares. It reminds me of the Quell. I'm not scared of the water anymore, but the sounds just remind me that everything that happened to us was real."

Finnick tightened his hand around hers as she shook her head.

"I almost can't believe how long it's been since we've had a Hunger Games." She glanced at him. "Do you think it will last?"

"I hope so. I want to believe it will."

Bex smiled softly. "Me too," she whispered, her free hand brushing against her abdomen. "But what if they do?"

He raised a brow. "Do what? Come back?"

She nodded.

"Then we'll deal with it," he promised. "We'll leave Panem behind. There has to be something else out there, beyond these waters."

"I just worry about the future." Bex turned back to the sun and squinted her eyes. "We've survived to worst. But who's to say they won't return just because we're finally at peace? What about the anticipation of the future?"

Finnick grabbed her chin then, forcing her stare to meet his. After all these years, butterflies beat against the walls of her stomach every time he touched her. "It will all be okay. As long as we are together." He leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead. When he moved away, his dimples appeared around his grin. "Why so much talk of the future?"

Bex bit her tongue, afraid of the next words that would soon spill out. Recently, she had been feeling very nauseous in the mornings, extremely lightheaded, and her shirts just weren't fitting right. When she visited the local healer and he told her the news, she was unsure whether to jump for joy or breakdown and cry. Not knowing what the future would hold or how she could care for something so small were such scary things.

She huffed out a sigh. "Maybe it's because I'm pregnant."

Finnick's smile grew even larger than before. Before he could speak, Bex continued on and glanced towards the ocean, "And maybe it's because I'm so _terrified_ of bringing a child into this world, where I'm skeptical if the peace will last, where I've seen and had to do such awful things. We don't know what will happen or what the child will think of us, how it will feel having two trained _murderers_ as parents –"

He grabbed both of her cheeks, grazing his thumbs underneath her eyes before the tears could fall. Bex rubbed underneath her runny nose. "Shh," he muttered, "that does not mean it will not love us any less. We are _survivors_. And that's exactly what this child will be too." He smiled genuinely, and it was such a beautiful sight that Bex felt like crying all over again. "I love you, Bex Nassar, and so will this child. Never forget that."

Finnick connected their lips as Bex laced her arms around his neck. They stumbled into the tranquil ocean, allowing the water to lick at their thin clothes. Bex giggled against his mouth and kissed him again, tasting the saltwater on his lips.

Waiting for the future felt like playing with fire, but they would get through it. Finnick was right. They were survivors, not murderers. They had survived the fire and came out stronger.

The future was terrifying, but there were always worse games to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I say it all the time when I end a story, but I seriously can't believe we've reached the end!
> 
> I really didn't ever think I would write a Hunger Games fic, but the COVID-19 quarantine really did something to us all, huh lmao. At the beginning of quarantine, I binge-watched all the movies and despite getting a sliver of an idea for a story, I was like, "NOPE, WE ARE NOT WRITING A FINNICK FIC." But then the pandemic hit and I decided that I now had too much free time on my hands so I should just expand on my idea and write a Finnick fanfiction 🤣
> 
> This story really helped to keep me motivated during one of the most depressing moments of my life. It's a little embarrassing lmao, but it's the truth. I really dove headfirst into the story and these characters, and it's one of the first stories I've been extremely proud of in a long time. I hope you all enjoyed it too!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and supporting this story! 💕
> 
> (Link to original posting on Wattpad again: https://www.wattpad.com/story/217187952-petals-for-armor-%E2%94%81-finnick-odair)


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